Third Time's a Charm: A Beetlejuice FanFic
by Ari.L.S
Summary: When Beetlejuice misses his appointment with Death, he is sentenced to exorcism. The only way Lydia can save him is to make a deal with Death, but that might mean selling her soul. BJxLyds, series based. I'm kinda bad at summaries, but please read anyway!
1. Prologue

Dear Readers and Beetlejuice fans,

I recently found seasons one and two of the cartoon show "Beetlejuice" on YouTube (I'll just say they were posted by an anonymous benefactor). When I was really young, I watched "Beetlejuice" on TV and the movie almost every day. I'm especially fond of the movie and the television show because I was named after Lydia and I practically grew up watching both ^^ I decided to write this the day I found the "Beetlejuice" episodes (as you might have guessed, it is series based, not movie based). I'm so passionate about this fan-fic, and the fact that I actually finished it shows that XD.

I decided to write this in first person because it is mainly about Lydia's reactions and feelings. I don't think I would be able to portray Beetlejuice's character correctly if I used the third person, but there might be a re-write of this story if I get enough positive feedback. Another reason I wrote in the first person is because I feel particularly close to Lydia. She happens to be the person I'm named after, and I have to say that I sort of turned out like her eccentric television persona XD.

This was so much fun for me to write, and at the same time it was a labor of love. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do. =)

-Arianna Summers (aka Lydia A.)

P.S. I do not own "Beetle Juice" (the movie), "Beetlejuice" (the cartoon), and the characters from the movie/cartoon I am using in this fan-fic.

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**Prologue: Six is the Magic Number**

It's been six years since I met Beetlejuice. Six years to the day. Does time really pass so quickly? I can still recall my many adventures to the Neitherworld as a young twelve-year-old child like they all occurred yesterday. Since then I've added at least four more inches to my length. I'm still a stick, though puberty gave me a few things like hips, a waist, and a modest chest. All of the other girls in my class are fully bloomed while I'm still stuck in the budding stage. What was the cause of this? Poor nutrition? Perhaps my little weight-loss thing back in my sophomore and junior years is what screwed me over.

Six years. I'm seventeen now, just starting my senior year in high school. In a few months I will be eighteen, no longer a girl but a woman. I'm in the middle of my college preparations. I plan on moving to California, the furthest I can go without leaving the mainland, to study photography and entomology. When I asked Beetlejuice if I could still contact him in California, he changed the subject. In fact, every time I talked about college, he would switch to another topic or do something crazy to distract me. Did this mean I couldn't keep in touch with him? Would he really miss me that much? Was he afraid that I was going to leave him?

Six long years.

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Author's Note: Gah, I suck at prologues I actually ended up adding this a few days before publishing because I wanted to present a little back story. I hope that this awfullness doesn't scare anyone away! DX Please keep reading!


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: The Absence of a Date Book**

I was in the middle of taking a shower when his face showed up in the mirror. He tended to do that a lot, interrupting me when I was doing something important like homework or showering to have a conversation. He didn't see these things as important (he's still the same old dirty slacker I know and love).

"Hey, what's up, Lyds?" he asked, his loud voice jarring the serenity of the bathroom. I didn't even bother to poke my head out from behind the curtain. Instead I continued to scrub the gash on my knee that I received when I fell off of my bike coming home from school. Droplets dripped off of the ring on my right-hand ring finger.

"Participating in a hygienic ritual," I answered lowly, "you should try it sometime."

"_Yeah_, no thanks," he replied. Though I couldn't see him, I knew that he was leaning casually against the rim of the mirror. If I could smell him, a putrid mixture of skunk perfume and "Week-Old Garbage Cologne" would sail through my nostrils. As the years went by, the stench got progressively worse, but I learned to cope with it.

"So…what's wrong?" I asked, breaking a long silence. After shutting the water off, I reached my arm out and grabbed a towel. Steam floated around in an attempt to establish equilibrium in the room. Despite the warm steam, it felt much colder outside of the shower. I quickly patted myself down and wrapped the towel around me. When I stepped out, goose bumps instantly poked out on my skin. I looked at the mirror. Beetlejuice was sporting a white sauna robe and leaned against the rim of the mirror, totally relaxed.

"What? I can't just drop by to say 'Hi'?" he croaked.

"Well," I retorted as I opened the medicine cabinet, the door of which was the mirror, and reached in for my leave-in conditioner, "usually when you _have _to interrupt me when I'm showering, something's gone wrong and I have to fix it." I closed the cabinet and saw his face again. "Can I have one of those bathrobes?" I asked, a smile on my lips. He had a hard time saying 'no' to me, so I tended to use his magic to my advantage. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he snapped his fingers and I was in a bathrobe identical to his, though mine said "Lydia" in black spidery letters on the collar. After I began spreading the conditioner through my hair, he started speaking again.

"You know what tomorrow is, right?" he asked, sounding quite nervous.

"Our anniversary, of course," I answered. Where was he going with this? Did he forget again?

"Uh…I sort of have a…what's it called…a conflict?"

I dropped my hairbrush. So he _did _forget! I felt it, the boiling red-faced anger, bubbling up inside of me. I clenched my fists so tightly my fingernails were digging craters in my palms.

"What could you have _possibly_ planned for the day of our anniversary?" I screeched.

"Well…ah…I-I kind of made plans with Ginger…"

"GINGER?" My palms were really suffering now. I think I ended up breaking some skin. "You made plans with _Ginger_? You don't even _like_ her!"

"Babes, listen, i-it's nothing like that!" he frantically tried, but I was done listening to him trying to come up with a pathetic excuse. I was not going to let him get away with this. This was even worse than the time he was supposed to be my escort for my sweet sixteen but was an hour late because he had a "burrito craving". Too many times before I had been too soft on him and that only led to more happenings like this. In my rage, I grabbed my hairbrush and pelted it into the mirror. Before the glass shattered, I heard Beetlejuice let out a cowardly cry.

"Lydia! Is everything all right?" Mother called.

"Yes!" I hollered back.

I sprinted back to my room, shutting the door and locking it. There was no doubt in my mind that Beetlejuice was trying to contact me again, so the first thing I did was grab my mirror off the wall and stuff it in the closet. For a moment I thought I heard his muffled voice begging for forgiveness, but when I looked inside the mirror simply gave me my reflection. My cheeks were still red from the shower, even redder since I was still letting off steam. Grunting, I slammed my closet door and flopped onto my bed. For my thirteenth birthday I asked for a black bed curtain and I got my wish. The black lace perfectly matched the black linens cloaking my bed. Though my bed was entirely shrouded in black, red dotted the furniture in my room, usually in the form of red roses. As I grew older I became more Goth than I initially was.

I glanced at a red picture frame on my nightstand. Beetlejuice and I stood together arm-in-arm in front of the entrance to "Scary World Abusement Park". My lips were curled into an open, jovial smile. My eyes were bright and wide. My make-up sucked. Instead of wearing pink eye-shadow and black mascara, I went almost full black with my current make-up routine. A thin layer of eyeliner, mascara, coal black eye-shadow with a tint of red, and dark red lipstick completed my usual look. I grew my hair long, so long that it could touch my backside. It was my nightshade shroud. Most of the time I wore it down, but I also tied it into a high ponytail when working on a sketch or taking a picture. Whenever I wore my Neitherworld costume, my hair would be swept up into a high "roll-up" ponytail. I still donned the same red spider-web poncho and skin tight black suit.

But now I was just sitting on my bed. I let the robe sink off of me. My damp hair weighed down my head and embraced my bumpy skin. I hugged my knees to my chest and allowed myself to be completely swallowed up by my hair. My heart was beating intensely in an unsteady metronome. I rolled onto my side and just laid there. The guilt surrounding me and crushing my form wasn't melting away. Was I being fair to Beetlejuice? Maybe I should have given him a chance to explain himself.

I wanted to slap myself. _Again_ I was being too weak. The reason Beetlejuice got away with stuff was because I was not strong enough to be angry at him. Tears escaped my eyes. If I lost Beetlejuice, no one in this world or the next would understand me. He was the one I told everything to. He knew my troubles, my hopes, and my fears, and I knew his. We were two kindred spirits, a pair of souls fated to be together forever. I don't think there is any fate worse than losing your best friend.

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"Ruds?" I heard from inside the closet. Gasping, I sat up. When I rubbed my eyes, I felt dried water on my cheeks. I must've fallen asleep crying. Again I heard Beetlejuice crying my name. I ran to the closet, my bare feet padding against the wood floor and shuffling over my black throw rug. I opened the closet and dug for the mirror, finding it wedged between two boxes I never unpacked when we moved here. I backed out of the closet, clutching the wall mirror. When I finally found the courage to meet his eyes, I saw that he was looking rather shocked. His eye brows were raised and his eyes had widened. "Geez, Lyds, I didn't think you'd cry over it." I squeezed my eyes shut, pushing the mirror away from me.

"You're such an insensitive asshole!" I screamed. I wanted to break that other mirror, but then I'd have fourteen years of bad luck, so I just put it back on the wall and turned away.

"Ouch, that hurt," he replied lowly, sticking a band-aid on his forehead.

"I hope it did," I muttered. I pulled the sleeves of the robe up a little so my shoulders were covered once more. After fixing the little quirks of the robe I wrapped my arms around myself, standing there with my back to the mirror.

"Guess I'm not gettin' to ya," he mumbled. "I'll just leave." When I looked at the mirror, he was gone. I let out a sigh.

I said his name three times. The first two times were hesitant with a long pause between each one. However, the third one came out bold and confident. To my relief, I found him popping up next to the mirror, the way he tended to make his entrance into my room. His physical appearance never changed. He was still wearing that white and black striped suit with the purple shirt underneath. A black tie hung loose around his neck. His blonde hair was still an organized mess, his teeth were still icky, and his fingertips were still red, though I opted to paint them purple once, figuring that they'd match better with his overall look. His hands were on his hips as he waited for me to talk. I said nothing.

"Sooooo," he tried, his voice croaking again. I took in a deep breath and turned around.

"How could you forget our anniversary?" I questioned angrily.

"It…it just…"

"Slipped your mind?" I finished for him. This was like, the seventh time we've had this conversation. "Beetlejuice, you can't keep forgetting important stuff like this, _especially_ our anniversary!" I couldn't believe myself for a moment; I sounded just like a wife. Again I let out a sigh. "But…you're my best friend," I continued, my voice significantly softer, "and…" I still hate myself for saying this, "…and I can't stay mad at you…so I forgive you…" A bright smile passed across his face. He ran up to me and hugged me tightly, jumping around the room excitedly.

"You're the best, Babes!" he exclaimed at the top of his lungs. My lips curled into a smile, my mood matching his. "I'll make it up to you, I promise!"

I let myself break down. The wall I spent so many years building up crumbled with just a few minutes. I could stand up to the jeers of my classmates, the hardships of life, and almost all of my deepest fears (except for sharks), but there was one thing my wall could not protect me from. Beetlejuice was my one true weakness.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Memories**

I awoke the next morning earlier than I usually did on the weekends. My goal for that morning was to finish my gift for Beetlejuice. Ever since I started hanging out with him, I took pictures, and those pictures accumulated over the years. My present for him was going to be a photo album high-lighting the good (and bad) times of our friendship. I hoped to give it to him during our party, but that plan was defeated. Still, I could always go to the Neitherworld and deliver it.

After finding the book on my nightstand, I grabbed crazy scissors, a glue stick, some markers, and construction paper. I also removed the ring. It was a rather simple ring, just a dreary circle shaped garnet stone on a brass band. Even though it wasn't glamorous, this ring was very special to me and I wasn't going to soil it with glue. I rarely ever took it off.

There were only a few pictures left for me to add to the album, so I did that by cutting out construction paper to mount the photo on, and then I glued that into the album. Once done with the three pictures, I decorated each page with some spider stamps and bug stickers. I doodled a few designs with red, dark purple, and black markers.

The hard cover had black padding surrounding a photo of us. Above the photo, big lime green foam letters spelled out, "Beetlejuice and Lydia". There were few decorations on the padding; only some red dots. The photo was taken the first day we met. We were sitting together on Beetlejuice's couch, smiling brightly as we waited for the camera's automatic flash to go off. We were both leaning towards each other, my head just barely reaching his shoulder (and I achieved that by kneeling on the couch). He bent down a little so his entire head could be in the frame. I let out a small sigh. I could remember that day like it was yesterday…

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I rode my bike to and from school everyday. On the way home I always took the long route, which included going through the local graveyard. It was a nice quiet place where I could just sit and collect my thoughts. I used to go for only a few minutes because Adam and Barbara, the resident ghosts, would always be waiting for me at home. However, at the close of my first year in Winter River, the two just disappeared suddenly. Even in my travels to the Neitherworld, I never saw them again.

I moved here when I was ten. I met Beetlejuice a few months before my twelfth birthday. That day I was just wandering the cemetery, reading off the names of the deceased. I read somewhere that the spirits of the dead slowly disintegrate, but every time a mortal says a spirit's name, the spirit rejuvenates. Every day I said Adam and Barbara's names in hopes of revitalizing them, wherever they were.

I came upon Beetlejuice's grave by pure chance. At that point I was just listing off whatever names my eyes found. When "Beetlejuice" came out of my mouth, I had to stop and examine the tombstone. "Here lies Beetlejuice," I read out loud, rather puzzled. "What an odd name," I said to myself. I tested the name on my tongue once more.

"Beetlejuice."

When I said his name for the third time, my surroundings changed. The gentle zephyr mutated into a storm-like wind. The trees swayed forcefully with the wind and fallen leaves danced around in small twisters. Heavy gray clouds hid the sun. In the distance I spotted lightning, and thunder crashed in my ears. Gasping I tried to make a run for it, but something had grabbed me by the wrist. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a pale bony hand with red fingertips pulling me back. I let out a piercing scream and pulled with all of my might, but I accomplished nothing. A head, then a body, rose from the hole in the ground. This…thing…was Beetlejuice.

I gazed up at him, my eyes stretched in awe and fear. My mouth had dropped ever so slightly. He looked back at me as if he were waiting for me to say something. For a long time we just stood there staring at each other.

"You rang?" he croaked. I had lost my voice. He tapped my head with his red finger. "Hellooooo? Anyone in there? Speak English? Parlez-vous français? Tu hablas espangol?" He kept going on and on like this in other languages and I could've sworn he was speaking dog at one point. My mind had gone blank. I wanted to answer him, but nothing would come out. It was like he had eaten my brain or something. He let out a frustrated yell. "It's like talking to a freaking statue here!" He took me by the shoulders, attempting to shake me into consciousness again. "Little. Girl. Wake. Uuuuuup!" I watched him transform into a number of objects: a train whistle, a snare drum, a pair of cymbals, a two-year-old having a tantrum, and other loud objects, all of which he used to try to make me speak. Finally, my voice was cooperating.

"Are you…are you…Death?" I asked in a mousy voice. What a stupid question. Of _course_ he wasn't Death! Death was a skeleton in a black robe with a scythe. This guy was a corpse in a pin-stripe suit. His smile turned into a straight frown and his eyebrows tilted, giving him a somewhat annoyed look.

"Yeah, right," he replied flatly. "Far from that, I'm afraid."

"Then who are you?" Again he looked at me with that flat look.

"Read the signs, little girl!" he exclaimed as a bunch of arrows pointed towards him. All of the signs said "Beetlejuice."

"Okaaay, so you're Beetlejuice," I said, "but, what are you? A ghost?"

"Not just any ghost, Babes," he responded with a con-man's voice, "I happen to be the Neitherworld's one and only 'Ghost with the Most'!" He raised one eyebrow and smiled widely. I let out a snort.

"Really? Prove it to me." His lips curled into a wry smile. Even with a closed mouth, his disgusting green teeth still stuck out.

"I'd _love_ to, but, you see, I can't do that."

"Why?" I questioned.

"Because…well…I can't use my magic in the Otherworld," he said, stretching out almost every word he spoke.

"Why?" I pressed.

"Geez, kid, you ask too many questions," he muttered. "That's just the way it is!" He paused, smiling again. "There _is_ one way I can use my magic up here, but there's a catch." He went silent, most likely for effect. I nodded and waited for him to continue. "You see, I have to get married to someone up here...soooo…" He dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a ring. "Would you?" My eyes widened and I backed away.

"No!" I retorted in disgust. "I'm only eleven years old! I can't get _married_!"

"All you have to do is put on the ring!" he exclaimed, waving his arms. "Heeeey! Get back here!" I grabbed my bike and began peddling away. He somehow managed to catch up with me because of his levitation abilities. Around me, the tombstones were rising, creating walls I had to get around. Nothing looked familiar and I stopped peddling. Frantically I searched for a place to hide, but he found me.

"I thought you said you couldn't use your magic!" I cried.

"Well, I guess you can say that was a little lie I made up," he responded tartly.

"So you're a liar _and _a creep!" I shouted back.

"That's me, Babes!"

"Why would you want to live up here anyway? I bet the Neitherworld is ten thousand times better than it is up here!"

"Are you crazy?" he shrieked. "I'd do _anything_ to get out of the Neitherworld!"

"Well I'd do anything to get out of _this_ world!" Water was building up in my eyes. If I could've had one wish, it would have been for me to be dead. I _hated_ my life. I was an outsider. No one wanted to be my friend. Every day I would quickly pedal my way home in an attempt to escape the stabbing jeers delivered by my classmates. They called me weird and freaky. They called me ugly and gross. Everyone avoided me when she wasn't calling me names. And just recently, I had lost my two only friends. "I bet you have _no_ idea what it's like to be an outcast!" I screamed at him. Everything paused as if time had stopped. The walls began to sink back into regular tombstones. Beetlejuice floated down next to me.

"Trust me, Babes, I know _exactly _how you feel," he said, his voice softer. "I can help you, but you have to help me." Again he held out the ring. "Are you afraid of death?"

I shook my head.

"Good!" He slipped the ring on my right-hand ring finger. It was a perfect fit. "Don't even call it a marriage, that's too…bleh. Think of it as aaaaah…hmmm…aaaaa commitment to friendship or somethin', though I have to say 'commitment' isn't really my thing..."

From that moment on we were glued together. It was the perfect fit and we instantly clicked after that transaction of promises. I could summon him whenever I wanted. I was his babysitter when he was in the Otherworld. I could go to the Neitherworld as I pleased, but I could not roam alone. I did not fear death. He did not fear life. There would be no lies between us. No stories. No secrets.

"What's your name?" he had asked when we were walking through the graveyard together.

"Lydia Deetz."

"Okay, Lyds, then."

"My name's _Lydia_."

"Yeah, Lyds."

Later that day I made my first trip to the Neitherworld. He acquired the red spider-web poncho for me, which was way too big for the first few months. As I grew, the poncho fit much nicer, but now when I wore it, it just barely covered my knees. I told him numerous times that I needed a new costume and he promised to get me a new one, but I still have yet to receive one.

He introduced me to all of his neighbors; Ginger, Jacques, The Monster Across the Street, and some others. He told me that they didn't like him, but they were all quite nice. Their eyes initially fell on my hand. Ginger had raised her eyebrows curiously. Jacques brought his fingertips to his lips nervously. The Monster squeezed away from us. I remember thinking about their strange behaviors.

As Beetlejuice sat on the couch while I prepared the camera, I asked him why his neighbors were acting strangely. He shrugged.

"They're always weird," he replied casually.

"That's not a nice thing to say!" I exclaimed.

"Well, _I'm _not a very nice person," he retorted. I couldn't help but giggle. Maybe it was the way he exasperatingly said it. I bounced towards the couch and knelt on the couch next to him. We had only a few seconds to get the pose right. Using my right hand, I pushed his head down a little. We fitted ourselves in the frame just in time.

"Say cheese!"


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Happy Anniversary**

I held the completed book in my hands. I wanted to keep it, but the whole reason I made it was to give it away. Hopefully Beetlejuice's gift would make up for the loss. I wasn't expecting much, but it was still nice to dream.

After placing the book in a box and wrapping it in waxy red spider-web wrapping paper, I put the ring back on my finger. The ring had a special magic to it. My fingers were long and bony, much thinner than they were when I was eleven. To accommodate that, the ring diminished in size so it continued to perfectly fit my ring finger. My lips curled into a small smile. Sometimes I would just stare at that ring for hours. Each time a different reel of memories would play in my head. That bitch Claire asked me numerous times if I got the junky thing at some thrift store. I respond that at least I didn't get my clothes from a dumpster. Her outfits had gotten trashier as the years went by. She wore ridiculous make-up and always made herself look like a slut. Who am I kidding? She _is _a slut. We would bounce insults at each other, throwing them at each other's walls and letting them roll away.

I put the present on the nightstand and cleaned up the materials, then I proceeded to change out of my vampire nightgown. I wore all black today, even down to the bra and underwear. The only thing that wasn't black was my red hair tie, which I put around my right wrist. The dress was plain and simple. Its loose skirt swayed just below my knees and sent cool breezes across my legs. The torso was snug but not tight. The collar simply cut across two inches below my collarbone, revealing my shoulders. The sleeves of the dress were as loose as the skirt and ended at the elbow. Around my neck I tied a thick choker with a silver cross hanging from it. A set of thin black bracelets hung from my left wrist. I pulled on a pair of leather boots. Just as I finished doing my make up and brushing my hair, Beetlejuice appeared in the mirror.

"Happy Anniversary, Babes!" he exclaimed. I jumped back in surprise, my eyes wide. For a moment I thought I was hallucinating, so I rubbed my eyes. His face was still there right in front of me. Shouldn't he be with Ginger right now?

"What are you doing here?" I asked as I put down my hairbrush.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm celebrating our anniversary!" I didn't notice this at first, but he was wearing one of those cheesy unicorn horn party hats. Rainbow confetti rained on him and he carried a noisemaker.

"But…what about your plans?"

"I decided not to show up," he replied briskly.

"Beetlejuice!" I exclaimed. "You don't just stand people up like that!" While I was disappointed with him for being so cruel, happiness flared up inside of me at the same time. "Thank you so much!" I added happily. I jumped forward to hug him, but my face went into the mirror. While I rubbed my poor nose, Beetlejuice just sat there and laughed.

"I've got the party set up at my house. See ya there!" With that said he disappeared. Smiling, I ran to the nightstand and took my present. After fixing my appearance, I stood in the middle of the room.

"_Though I know I should be wary, still I venture some place scary. Ghostly haunting I turn loose. Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!_"

The door I took to the Neitherworld popped up in the middle of my room. When I opened the door, a spiraling portal was revealed. All of the loose articles in my room tipped over or migrated to another spot because they succumbed to the wind. My hair and the loose parts of my dress swayed to one side. Taking in a deep breath, I jumped into the portal. The door slammed shut behind me.

The door on the other side opened and I walked down the steps, finding Beetlejuice's road house just ahead. I went in through the front door. He had cleaned up the place a little bit and decorated it with streamers, banners, and balloons. On the table there was a cake with six lit candles on it along with a few bowls of snacks including "Beetle Chips", his favorite. Once he convinced me to try them and I ended up returning home sick. I liked bugs, but not in my stomach.

"It looks great in here!" I exclaimed happily. I turned to him, holding the box out. "Let's open our presents now," I added, "Happy Anniversary." I smiled even more when he took the present and unwrapped it. My stomach felt empty and it gurgled nervously. He must've known how nervous I was because he was being very slow and hesitant when he was undoing my careful wrapping. "Hurry up!" I wailed. Laughing, he quickly ripped the remaining paper off, opened the box, and took out the book. His mouth opened into a wide smile. He pushed the cover away and flipped through the pages, taking in all of the memories I had preserved.

"Wow, Lyds, this is great!" I jumped in my spot, cheerfully clapping my hands.

"I'm so glad you like it!" I replied. After putting the album on the table, he took out a box. Just seeing the box made me gasp in delight. He must have worked really hard to raise the money for this gift. Hopefully he didn't get it by stealing from children or selling phony miracle products. I wanted to rip the poorly done wrapping to shreds but I kept my dignity and carefully unwrapped the present. My knees were shaking, both out of nervousness and excitement. Carefully I removed the lid from the box.

The gift was a new dress.

Gasping, I gingerly removed the dress, allowing the box to drop to the ground with a light tap. The piece unfolded in front of me. I let it dangle from my hands and just stared at it for a moment. The dress was red and black, my favorite color combination. The torso was a corset tied in the front with red strings. There were no actual sleeves, but the dress was held up by a thick black choker, similar to the one I was wearing right now, with straps attaching the choker to the rest of the dress. The skirt that bled from the corset was black and loose. Over the black fabric was a veil of red lace.

My favorite part of the outfit was the cape that came with it. It was a hooded cape with a black outside and a red inside. I also had a pair of black gloves that stretched up to my armpits and thin black boots that reached my knees.

"Beetlejuice, I love it!" I cried, holding back my tears of joy. Smiling brightly I jumped into a hug. "Thank you so much! It's perfect!" I turned towards his bedroom and ran in. My heart was beating rapidly in my chest like a sugar-high hummingbird. My feet briskly glided across the floor on a cloud of elation. "I'm going to try it on right away!" Before he could say anything, I shut the door. Quickly, I slipped my small poncho and body suit off, replacing the old clothes with this beautiful new dress. I decided to tie my hair into a long braided ponytail, which took a while. After looking at myself, my smile melted away, and I put my hair back into the high ponytail, using the red hair tie. A few times Beetlejuice knocked on the door to make sure I hadn't died or something. I didn't let him come in. I wanted the new me to be a complete surprise to him. Before putting the cape on, I looked down at myself, tightening the corset a little bit. My boobs actually looked decently sized! I squealed delightfully into my hands.

Finally, I slipped on the boots and the gloves, followed by the cloak. When I came out, shrouded in the cape, Beetlejuice was sprawled out on the couch and dead asleep. I stomped towards him, my boots clunking against the wood floor, and bonked his head with my palm.

"Up!" I shouted. He let out a scream and jumped up, standing straight and tall. His gaze was that of an army private. For a moment it was stale and glazed over but when I snapped my fingers his attention turned to me. Smiling, I opened the cape and put it behind my shoulders so the rest of the dress was visible. It was beautifully crafted and wonderfully finished. It must've cost him a year's worth of money from a regular job. "Sooooo, what do you think?" I span in my spot, allowing the cape and skirt to twirl. There was a silence. I looked up. He was just staring, like he was trying to collect his thoughts. Did it look bad? Good? Amazing? Terrible? "Beetlejuice?"

Right there he burst out into tears. His crying was kind of obnoxious. He let out this croak-like wail, his mouth open vastly and his green worm tongue sticking out. Tears came out like twin rain showers. It was like watching a two-year-old having a tantrum. But why was he crying?

"What's wrong?" I asked quietly, my voice overflowing with worry. I stepped closer to him, hearing the heels of my new boots clunking again. This seemed to make his tears worse. "Beetlejuice?"

"You're…growing…up…too…faaaaaaaaast!" he wailed, taking deep breaths between each word.

"Someone else here still needs to grow up," I mumbled. Quickly I shook away my annoyance, replacing it with a sweeter tone. I took a few more steps towards him. "Why's that so bad?" I asked softly. He just kept whimpering. What a baby. "Beetlejuice…I'm not going to leave you just because I'm growing up. I mean…I'm going to college, but I'll still get to see you, right?" I put up my finger as if to say, "One moment," and ran into the bedroom, coming out with my old poncho. I held it up and wiped the tears away from his face.

"Thanks, Babes," he croaked, patting the water off of his eyes. My lips curled into a smile once more.

"No problem," I replied cheerfully. Despite my smile, my head hung ever so slightly thinking about the subject. He still never told me if I could talk to him all the way in California. I decided to change the subject. I looked down at the dress, holding the skirt out. "This dress is _so_ beautiful," I exhaled. "You must've worked really hard to get the money for this." Beetlejuice's usual smile returned. He placed a hand on his hip and the other in the air like he was holding a tray of food.

"_Actually_," he corrected me, "I made it from scratch." I brought my hands to my mouth.

"You _made_ this?" I shouted into my hands. He nodded proudly. I turned my gaze back to the dress. This one little piece of information made me see the dress in a completely different way. He had cut and formed the leather creating the corset, measured and sewed the fabric of the skirt, and even stitched the cloak. There had to be some magic in there, but I believed it was mostly love. I twirled in my spot again. "It really is wonderful, thank you so much!"

We spent the rest of the morning chatting, looking through the album, pondering over memories, and, of course, eating. The bowl of Beetle Chips were gone within the first half-hour and we quickly gobbled down our cake. All of the eating made Beetlejuice quite tired by noon, so when he conked out on the couch, I spent about an hour watching T.V. The reception was horrible and his obnoxious snoring made it hard to hear, but I kept myself entertained by flipping through the album (again) and using the T.V. programs as background noise.

Beetlejuice awoke with a yelp when there was a knock on the door. He floated to the door, mumbling some swears under his breath. When he opened the door, his yellow eyes bugged out of his head and he instantly shut the door. I stood up, briskly walking towards the door, my new cape flaring out behind me.

"Who is it?" I asked, finding Beetlejuice disguising himself as a coat-hanger.

"The Royal Guards!" he hoarsely whispered.

"Hm, I wonder what they want," I said as I reached for the doorknob.

"Don't!" Beetlejuice wailed, coming out of his coat-hanger form and diving towards me. I stepped out of the way and let him slam into the floor.

"What's wrong with the Royal Guards?" I questioned, impatiently tapping my foot.

"The last time they showed up they were trying to arrest me!" he moaned. My eyes rolled.

"Don't even bother to explain," I mumbled, opening the door. A pair of Royal Guards stood before me. The blue-skinned bodies of muscle stepped aside and allowed a skinny, jewel-clad person to enter the house. I backed away a little bit, lifting my arms so my cloak could hide my whimpering friend. "Ah…uh…what can I do for you, sir?" I asked as politely as possible.

"His royal lowness Prince Vince requests the services of Mister Beetlejuice," the man said in a snooty British accent. My lips pursed together, I bent down and picked Beetlejuice up by the collar, making him stand and face the jewel guy.

"I-I-I didn't do it, I swear!" Beetlejuice spat out as he waved his hands in front of him. "Whatever it was, I had nothing to do with it!"

"Calm yourself, Mister Beetlejuice," the man said, "we are here to ask for your services, not to arrest you." Upon hearing this, Beetlejuice let out a relieved sigh.

"Guess they didn't figure out who put the spiders in the Queen's underwear drawer," he muttered under his breath, chuckling at his cleverness. The jeweled man didn't seem to hear, but I did, so I delivered a smack to his arm. "That huuurt," he whined, rubbing his arm. I crossed my arms and listened as the jeweled man explained that Prince Vince was kidnapped and that we had to find him.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: An Encounter with a Broken-Hearted Maiden**

"Where could he possibly be?" I asked as we climbed into Doomie. We drove away towards the castle, figuring that maybe we could gather some clues regarding his whereabouts.

"Who knows?" Beetlejuice replied after yelling at some crazy driver. "My question is why would anyone want to kidnap _that_ wimp?"

While he rattled on about what a wuss Prince Vince was, I took a small trip down memory lane. At one point I had a small crush on him, but when I think back I can't help but wonder why. He was such a depressing person, very overly dramatic. No doubt he would still be attracted to me, but I can't have a depressing partner. I need someone with a sense of humor, someone who knows how to make me laugh.

"Watch the fucking road!" Beetlejuice screamed at someone else. This jarring noise snapped me out of my daze, causing me to burst into a wave of laughter. He was the one who taught me most of the curse words I knew, along with some dirty jokes. As I got older he became a lot more open. When I turned fifteen, I found that he was interrupting me during my showers a lot. It never really bothered me. He never _tried_ anything. Since I've known him for so long I can open up a little more. That's normal, right?

Awkward.

"You okay, Babes?" he asked. I nodded without turning to face him. My eyes were focusing on the winding road. He didn't seem too alert because I had to grab the wheel a couple of times. I just got my license in the real world, but I had my Neitherworld "Lice-ense" since I was thirteen. I looked up at the horizon for a moment, then up into the sky. Dark clouds surrounded an upcoming village. I shifted in my seat so I was sitting up in the proper posture.

"Beetlejuice, look," I said as I pointed at the village. "It's pretty stormy over there. Do you think…?"

"I'm on it, Lyds!" he shouted as he lifted his foot. He slammed it down on the gas pedal and Doomie came to life. The car sped towards the village and screeched as Beetlejuice slammed on the brakes. The seatbelt nearly choked me when we stopped. We climbed out, finding ourselves in the middle of a sixteenth century European village, thatched roof houses and all. Doomie was parked right next to the town water fountain. After locking him with a beep, the two of us began wandering the rainy town. I let the hood of the cape swoop over my head while Beetlejuice turned his left arm into an umbrella. I kept my ears open for morbid screams of terror. If Prince Vince was moping, you could hear it from a mile away.

The village was quite small and demure, and soon enough I picked up a depressed cry.

"That must be him!" I exclaimed as I ran towards one of the cottages at the end of the town. Right on the outskirts we came upon a tall tower. Dark shadowy clouds surrounded it and lightning flashed the area. We could both hear the morose moans of the Prince of the Neitherworld.

"He must be getting the worst kinds of torture in there!" Beetlejuice exclaimed. "That lucky bastard!" I ignored his being an idiot and began climbing up the many steps of the tower. This was one of the few times I wished I didn't get heels. Halfway there, my feet gave up and I fell back a couple of steps. Since Beetlejuice could levitate, I made him carry me on his back the rest of the way. Like I said, he can't say 'No' to me.

We entered a bleak and empty room. The only furniture was a straw bed. On a platform, I spotted Prince Vince hanging by the wrists with chains holding him to the ceiling. On the floor next to a tall window, a girl sat at a spinning wheel. Her blonde hair was tied back into two buns, one on each side of her head. Her shirt was puffy and white with the neckline cutting across her torso a few inches below the collarbone. The skirt was brown and worn with dully colored patches sewn in some areas. Pinching her stomach was a corset. She wore no shoes on her feet. The girl just sat there, staring blankly at her spinning wheel like it was mesmerizing her.

"_My peace is gone, my heart is heavy, I find him, I find him never, and nevermore,_" she sang in a hypnotizing soprano voice, following a tune that sounded quite familiar to me.

"Help me, someone!" Prince Vince moaned. My gaze turned to the girl. She was so entranced by the rotation of the spinning wheel. If we were quiet, we could easily rescue Prince Vince without her noticing.

"We're coming, Princey!" Beetlejuice called at the top of his lungs. I cringed as he transformed into a cannon, of all things, and blasted a cannonball at the hook attaching the chains to the ceiling. Prince Vince was released and landed on the Beetlejuice trampoline. Though he was safe, our escape wasn't going to be easy. The girl stopped spinning and stood up.

"Why are you taking my love away?" she questioned, her voice echoing hauntingly as her eyes began to glow bright red. A strong blast of wind entered the tower, playing with her hair and releasing it from her loose buns. The gusts were so strong that my cape pulled me into the wall. Screaming I grabbed onto a stone and held on with all of my might.

"I'm coming, Lyds!" I heard Beetlejuice call. The straw from the bed blasted past me, pressing against my body and whipping my fingers. Squinting, I saw her approaching Beetlejuice, who was fighting against the elements.

"Don't you dare take him away from me!" she shouted demonically. She thrust her arms forward, uprooting stones from the floor and sending them flying towards him. I cried out his name, but the flying dust clouded my vision. All I could see were the shining ruby eyes of the crazy girl.

"_My peace is gone, my heart is heavy, I find him, I find him never, and nevermore!_"

There was something about that line. It was the line of a song I had heard before, but at that very moment I couldn't put my finger on it. I scrambled through my brain, trying to dig up the knowledge I had of that song. What was that girl's name?

"_Meine ruh ist hin, mein herz ist schwer. Ich finde, ich finde sie nimmer, und nimmer mehr!_"

That song! I had heard it once before during music class. It was a German lied from Goethe's "Faust". What was that girl's name? Gina? Gretel? Gretchen?

"Gretchen…"

The entire room went into a pause. Gretchen was still floating, but her eyes had returned to their bright blue color and her wild blonde hair flopped down against her body. The hay flying around dropped to the ground as did the stones. On the other side of the room I heard Beetlejuice letting out a groan, but I ignored this when I saw droplets dripping down the girl's cheeks. She took my hand and the two of us levitated to the ground. Once my feet touched the stone, Gretchen burst into more tears, covering her eyes with her hands.

"Where is he?" she cried in a strong German accent. "Where is my Faust?" She fell to her knees, still sobbing. "I can't live without my love…"

My heart ached strongly for the poor girl! I don't know if I could bear the pain of losing my love. I knelt beside her, wrapping my arms around her in a gentle embrace. I heard Beetlejuice's footsteps approaching us.

"What's up with her?" he asked. "She PMSing or somethin'?" I kicked him in the shin. He let out a series of cries and wails as he bounced up and down on his good foot, clutching his hurt shin. I took her cold hand, hoping that it could comfort her. Her entire arm was pale blue with death. I looked at her face, which was also blue. There was a slit in her neck. Gretchen must have killed herself in her agony and in hopes of finding her supposedly dead lover. But if she committed suicide, shouldn't she be at work? My eyes trailed towards the aloof spinning wheel. It stared back at me, showing off a spool with little yarn wrapped around it. Perhaps this was her work, but she was too distracted to perform her duties. After a quick glance towards Gretchen, I whipped my head in Beetlejuice's direction.

"She's heartbroken, Beetlejuice," I told him angrily. "How would you feel if _your_ heart got broken?"

"Well, technically I don't have a heart." Ignoring him once more, I turned back to Gretchen.

"Don't worry, I'm sure that Faust will find you one day, and you two will be happy again."

Prince Vince approached us from behind, touching Gretchen's shoulder.

"I know all too well what it is like to lose your true love," he moaned dramatically, "for it is like having a piece of your very existence being ripped out of you and torn into thousands of broken shreds." Gretchen sniffed and wiped away a few more tears.

"You took the words right out of my mouth," she said as she turned to him. "Perhaps…maybe…we could be broken hearted souls together?" They joined hands and he helped her to her feet, both smiling cutely at each other. Beetlejuice groaned.

"This is some cheesy shit right here," he croaked, now in the shape of a blob of moldy yellow cheese. I rolled my eyes and took my usual stance next to Beetlejuice, who was hiding his eyes to avoid the positive energy. Gretchen would no longer be lonely now that she had Prince Vince to keep her company. Maybe he wasn't Faust, but he was close enough.

"Thank you for coming to save me, Miss Lydia," Prince Vince said with a small bow, "but I think I'll be fine now, so long as Miss Gretchen doesn't chain me to the ceiling again." The lovesick maiden giggled. Prince Vince stepped a little closer to me, his head bowed and eyes closed. "I will conjure up a three month storm the day you leave us. I will miss you so." I cocked my head to the side in confusion. What did he mean? Did Beetlejuice tell _everyone_ that I was going to college?

"I guess we should be going," I said as I backed away towards Beetlejuice, "goodbye." Beetlejuice and I went down that painful spiral staircase, found Doomie right where we parked him, and drove away. The jeweled man greeted us at home and Beetlejuice simply said we didn't find the prince.

"Worthless con man," the jeweled man muttered as he left the house.

When we entered the house, Beetlejuice flopped onto the couch.

"I'm getting too old for this," he grumbled.

"You don't age when you're in the Neitherworld, remember?" I said as I sat next to him.

"Eh, still, I've been reduced to a royal babysitter. I'm a _con-man_ for God's sake!"

"Honest living, honest living!" I chanted.

"I think I'm just losing my touch, Babes," he moaned. "I mean, the last line of pranks and scams I pulled had like, minimal effect. Everyone was just like 'whatever'." He sat up and let out a frustrated scream, which made his head spin in place. I burst into laughs and giggles again. It had been a while since I saw the old "Head Spin". He gripped his head with his hands, his eyes dizzily meandering.

"Maybe it's time for you to settle down," I suggested.

"Settle down?" he shrieked. "I can't just _settle down_! What am I supposed to do? Sit on my couch, eat bonbons, and watch soap operas all day?"

"It was just a suggestion," I muttered. "Besides, that wasn't what I meant." I let out a small sigh. It was hard for me to see Beetlejuice living a married life. All of the women who showed the slightest interest in Beetlejuice just weren't cut out for him. I could have invited him to go to college with me, but then I wouldn't get anything done. Plus he would haunt the dorm.

"I'm sure as hell gonna miss ya, Lyds," he said lowly. I clenched my fists.

"I'm not _going_ anywhere!" I hissed. "Why is everyone all like, 'I'm going to miss you, Lydia,'? It's just _college_!" I turned my burning glare to him. "What's really going on, Beetlejuice?" He hesitated to answer. Just as I was about to scream at him, he opened his mouth to speak.

"You're turning eighteen in a couple months, right?"

"Yes."

He sighed.

"That's the problem. When mortals become adults, they get scared of dying. Why do you think all that medical stuff was invented? The only reason you were allowed to come to the Neitherworld is because you never feared death."

"I still don't, Beetlejuice, and I never will," I tried to reassure him.

"That's what you think, Lydia, but it's a natural thing. When you turn eighteen…you will forget about me."

"No!" I yelled. "Beetlejuice, I will _never_ forget about you, I promise!" I felt hot tears welling up in my eyes. I couldn't give up my memories of Beetlejuice, I just couldn't. He was my best friend, the most important person in my life. There was no one else, in this world and the next, who could understand me as well as Beetlejuice does. We were two peas in a pod, a pair of mandarin ducks, hopelessly devoted to each other.

"Don't leave me!"

* * *

Author's Note: I don't own the character Gretchen, nor the song that goes with her, "Gretchen am Spinnrade". If you're interested in hearing it, you can look up the song on Youtube. There are a number of recordings, so take your pick. It's a beautiful song =)


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: Old Habits Never Die**

"Lydiaaaaaa!" Mother called in her shrill, high-pitched voice.

I let out a groan and hid my head under another pillow. This was the second day I spent in bed. It was a sickeningly sunny Sunday and I chose to keep the curtains closed. Outside I heard Mother's heels clicking towards my door. She opened it, wincing as the hinges creaked.

"Lydia, darling, you need to eat _something_. You missed lunch and dinner yesterday, and you missed breakfast and lunch today. You must look like a skeleton!"

"I may as well be one," I mumbled into the pillow.

"Come downstairs for dinner before I drag you out of bed, young lady," Mother chided as she closed the door. Sighing I sat up in bed, then climbed out and dragged myself to the mirror. I took a good long look at myself. My eyes were more sunken than normal. Even though I spent two days in bed, I barely slept. My knees were shaking and the nightgown felt heavy and droopy on my shoulders. The last thing I ate was the anniversary cake. I lifted the nightgown up, revealing my legs and my lower stomach. My legs looked normal, though they were quite pale, but my stomach was flat, making the fronts of my hip bones stick out more. When I lifted a little more, most of my ribs were visible. Not only that, my collarbone appeared to be a lot more forward.

"Hey, Babes!" I heard from the mirror. Yelping, I dropped the skirt.

"Beetlejuice!" I screamed. "What the hell?"

"Lyds!" he greeted me casually as his form appeared in the mirror. "I could've sworn that you were Jacques's new girlfriend or somethin'!"

"What?"

"Well, ya see, Jacques has a new girlfriend, who happens to be a skeleton…"

"So you think I look like a skeleton, huh?" I cut him off. Hot ran to my cheeks and the back of my neck sizzled. He must've been spying on me, the sick bastard! Sighing, I muttered his name three times in the way an annoyed mother would. Chuckling, Beetlejuice popped out of the mirror and floated towards me.

"Anyways, I got great news, Babes! The Ghost with the Most is back in business!"

"Tell me about it," I mumbled as I put a hand on the top of my head. My legs started feeling really weak, so weak I was having trouble standing up. I remembered when I used to totter around like this everyday back when I was having my "weight dilemma".

"Well, I found this amaaaaazing new product that gets rid of any and all lip problems called 'Lip Bomb'..."

I sort of tuned him out, not really wanting to hear about his latest sales. He was a door-to-door salesman who tricked people into buying crappy products. People bought the stuff, tried it out, realized they were dooped, and formed an angry mob in front of his house to demand their money back. Same structure, different details, _every single time_. He regaled me on how Ginger blew her house up and how Jacques completely fell apart when they tried the product. The Monster Across the Street blew a fuse when Poopsie had a freak out because the product exploded in his face. I just continued swaying, sometimes standing still and other times fumbling towards something to lean against.

"That's great," I muttered. My vision began to pepper, so I made my way towards my bed and flopped onto my back. I didn't feel so light-headed anymore, the polar opposite in fact. My head felt like it weighed three tons.

"You okay, Lyds?" I heard him ask. It sounded like he was miles away, but I could smell his strong breath, so he was probably right next to me.

"Not really," I replied quietly.

"Have you been eating?"

I shook my head.

"Well _there's_ your problem, Babes!" he exclaimed. "You gotta eat; even _I _knew that!" My vision cleared up a little bit and I saw that he was shoving a beetle towards me. "Want one?" he asked.

"Um…no," I said as I sat up, "I'm not really hungry right now."

"Why not?" He paused, and then a light bulb of realization popped up over his head. "Is it because of…well…you know?" I nodded. He let out a small laugh. "It's nothing you have to _starve _yourself over!" He put an arm around me. "You know what I always say: let the good times roll!" He helped me stand up and we stood in the middle of the room together. "Why don't we go have fun in the Neitherworld? Just say the magic words!" I took in a deep breath and said his name three times. We stepped through the door to the Neitherworld, but everything went black the minute we stepped into the other side.

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I must've passed out or something, because when I opened my eyes I was on Beetlejuice's couch. I heard something crunch below me and when I reached under my body I found the remains of a cockroach. Quickly I tossed it away and began to sit up. I was the only person in the living room. This changed within a few seconds when I heard Beetlejuice's bedroom door open. The brief silence I awoke to had been interrupted by the ear-piercing calls of the yellophone. I dropped onto the pillow again, listening to him hum something. He stopped for a couple of seconds right next to me and then proceeded to answer the screaming phone.

"_Yello_?" he greeted the person on the other end. He was leaning casually against the wall as the person on the other end spoke. "Oh, that was _yesterday_?" he croaked. He shrugged. "Guess it just slipped my mind, pal." He jumped, every hair on his body sticking up when the person on the other end screamed angrily. "Okay, okay, Mister Death. Geez you're pretty grouchy this evenin'."

Wait, Death? As in the Grim Reaper? As in the guy who takes away souls? Why would Beetlejuice receive a phone call from Death? I began to stir, allowing myself to sit up again. My body was still trembling and weak, even though the clothes I bore were much lighter than my nightgown. My head floated for a few moments while my vision cleared up.

"Oh shit," I heard Beetlejuice mutter. "Hey look, buddy, I gotta go. Maybe we can arrange lunch or something, just the two of us, aaand we'll talk this thing over. 'Kay?" He swiftly hung up. He didn't turn to face me. I kept my intent gaze on him. I watched as he dawdled around the end table and pretended to clean the dust off of the thing. While he did this, he hummed the same tune he was humming when he went to answer the phone.

"What was that all about?" I finally asked. Again, Beetlejuice jumped. His head became detached from his body and twisted around, landing the wrong way. His eyes were wide and his lips opened in an "O" shape.

"Heeeey, look who's up!" he exclaimed, trying to change the subject.

"What happened?" I pressed, steering us back on track. I began to stand up but Beetlejuice shuffled over and pushed me back down.

"Don't stand up yet, Babes!" he said as he ran to his cabinet. When he returned (with his head in its normal position) he held a red bottle in his hands. "Jacques gave me this energy drink for you," he added as he uncorked it and handed it to me. I pushed the drink away.

"Tell me what's going on," I demanded harshly. If Beetlejuice was involved with Death now, it could be disastrous. Even worse, if Beetlejuice screwed up (which he was bound to do), it could spell out bad news for my friend. I stared him down with a laser gaze. He couldn't say 'No' to me. He _had_ to tell me what was happening. No lies. No stories. "No secrets, remember?" I reminded him, recalling our promises to each other when we first became friends. He clenched his fists, turning away from me.

"It's nothing to be concerned about," he gritted. I opened my mouth to retaliate, but with a snap of his fingers, I was back in my room with the energy drink in hand. I put the drink on my nightstand and ran to my mirror.

"Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, BEETLEJUICE!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. He didn't answer. I let a frustrated scream out of my teeth and tried again, even louder this time. Still I received no response. I kept trying. After five attempts, I gave up. I put a hand over my burning throat. If I could, I would have transformed my head into a megaphone or maybe a stereo system. I looked in the mirror.

No, it was just me; normal, regular Lydia.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: My Appointment with Death**

Beetlejuice was gone.

I tried the full Neitherworld incantation early the next morning and found that the door was open. But when I arrived at Beetlejuice's house, he was nowhere to be found. When I asked Jacques if he saw what happened, he told me that some people riding in a hearse picked him up (literally) earlier that morning. He had no idea where they were going, though.

Despite the limited information, I already had a thought forming. The people who picked up Beetlejuice had to be Death's minions. If they were taking him away early in the morning, it meant business. The first thing I did was ransack Beetlejuice's house for the keys to Doomie. I somehow made the place more of a mess than it already was, finally finding the keys on the floor by the door. I gazed at the black metal key for a few minutes while it sat in my palm. Had Beetlejuice been trying to leave before Death's people arrived?

I jumped into the car and went into the city. I had no idea where Death lived so I decided to check out the local "Bone Book" (or as some people called it, the "White Pages"). It turned out that Death didn't live in a castle in the middle of nowhere like I expected he did. Instead, he resided in a skyscraper, which doubled as his business building. It was located across the street from the "Neitherworld Memorial Hospital".

I parked in the visitor's parking and entered Death's building. His office/apartment was on the top floor. In between his office and the main floor were thousands of departments including "Marriage Renewals", "Neitherworld Housing Insurance", and "Death Counseling". I went into the elevator, followed by an overweight businessman, an unpaid intern, and Elvis. They all got off before me, leaving me alone on the shabby elevator for about ten floors so I could gather my thoughts. The lights flickered and buzzed as the elevator neared the top floor. What was I supposed to do? What was I supposed to say?

The elevator doors opened and I stepped into a waiting room. It was empty except for an old secretary at the reception desk. I stepped up to the desk and waited for the woman to look up from her computer. Her long red manicured nails clacked annoyingly against the keys. Finally, after she finished typing, she looked up at me.

"Can I help you?" she asked in a nasally voice that made me cringe ever so slightly. This woman was _old_. Her skin was slowly melting off of her bones. Her blue and purple veins stuck out on her saggy arms. She had severe rope burn on her neck. A pair of red glasses sat on the tip of her crooked nose. Her hair was perfect and I immediately proclaimed her guilty of wig wearing.

"Um…I'd like to see Mister Death, please," I said, putting on a fake innocent smile. The woman let out an exasperated sigh and clucked her tongue.

"Look, you can't just walk into Death's office as you please. For one thing, you have to make an appointment. And secondly, he will not tell you when you're going to die." She made a moving motion with her hands as if she were trying to sweep me away.

"This isn't about me," I replied, my voice harder. "This is about my friend. I need to speak to Death immediately." The receptionist let out another annoyed groan.

"_Fine_, Mister Death appears to be free at the moment," she whined back. "What is your name?"

"Lydia Deetz," I responded confidently. She pushed a button on a voice-box thing and spoke my name into it.

"Go in," she snapped. As I walked in, I stuck my tongue out a little bit, but I made myself presentable when I approached Death at his desk. The man was sitting back in the shadows. All I could see were his teeth flashing white as he smiled.

"Lydia Deetz," he greeted, his voice low and smooth, "I was wondering when you would arrive." So Death was expecting me. Weird. I saw his hand gesture towards one of the chairs facing his desk. "Please, have a seat." I nodded and sat down in the red chair. It was just a normal chair, much to my relief. Death sat up in his chair, his elbows resting on his desk and his hands joined in the air. His figure slipped out of the shadows. He looked like any other man: pale white skin, slick blonde hair that was combed to the side with hair gel, and a slate blue suit. At first I was sort of in shock. I was expecting the black cape, skeletal appearance, and the famous scythe. As far as I could see, Death was just another businessman.

He reached towards a coffee cup with his jeweled fingers and took a sip before setting it back down again. His lips were curled into a handsome yet devilish smile. For a while he just overlooked me with his blue windows. I looked back at him, my head raised so I projected an air of confidence without too much cockiness.

"So," he began, "I assume you are here to discuss Beetlejuice's fate."

"Yes," I responded with a slow nod. He massaged his temples with his fingers for a few seconds before continuing.

"I'm not even sure where to _begin_, Miss Deetz," he said in a slight moan, "Beetlejuice's case is so _incredibly_ packed, it could take me an eternity to list his offenses." He paused. "Why don't you just tell me what _you_ know?" I nervously swiped a stray hair behind my ear. There really wasn't that much for me to say. I swept through my brain for all of the possible information I had on these happenings, but I could only come up with one good piece.

"All I know is that Beetlejuice missed an appointment you had on Saturday," I answered timidly. Upon hearing this, Death couldn't help but chuckle.

"That's _all_?" he replied. "Whatever happened to 'No secrets'?" I clenched my fists, my teeth digging into my bottom lip. How did he know of our contract? As if he could read my very thoughts, he answered with a small laugh. "It was a contract between a mortal and an immortal. Of _course_ I knew about it." He leaned forward a little more, exposing that demonic smile again. "I bet you don't even know what the meeting was about," he added in a wily manner. I simply shook my head. My ears were perked up, listening intently. Death stood and began pacing the room, his stroll slow and evenly paced. I sank my fingernails into the leather chair nervously as my gaze followed him.

"Are you aware of the crimes he has committed against the Neitherworld?" Well, sure I did. He was a prankster and a con-man. _Everyday_ he caused some sort of trouble. "Countless," he answered. "Some were innocent little pranks, but there were others that are simply unforgivable." He turned to face me. "His most hideous crime occurred about six years ago." Great, yet another person who _loved _to hear himself talk. "It was a lovely early summer day. A young girl was strolling through the local graveyard, reading off the names of the dead." My heart skipped a beat. He was telling _my _story. "She came across the grave of a long dead man who possessed a rather odd name…"

"Beetlejuice," I whispered, feeling my eyes widen in shock. I looked up and saw his smile grow in size. His eyebrows played on his forehead mischievously.

"When he was summoned by this little girl," he continued, elongating almost every word that passed through is lips, "he tried to trick her into marrying him." He approached me and took my right hand in his, lifting it up. As my hand elevated, I rose to my feet. "And he did." He examined the ring for a few moments. "He broke one of the key rules we immortals must follow. We must _never_ associate with the living." He released my hand and I let it drift towards my heart, holding it there tightly.

"What is the punishment?" I asked hesitantly, my voice a soft whisper. The smile on Death's lips curled wider.

"The worst punishment a ghost could suffer: Exorcism."

The word echoed in my mind, repeating itself as it travelled through an endless abyss. His malevolent voice rang loudly and clearly in my ears. Each time the word was repeated, I felt another stab in my chest. Death circled and stood behind me. He felt his hot breath on the back of my neck, sending goose bumps playing across my skin.

"It really is a _terrible_ punishment. Would you like to see?"

Though my mind wanted to resist, my body followed as he led me out of the office. I clasped my hands together, holding them close to my heart. Death was going to torture me by making me imagine Beetlejuice's soul in the chambers of those who were being exorcised. We wandered through a maze of hallways, each one odder than the next. The windows slowly began to warp in shape and the floor tiles morphed into strange patterns. The hallway we stopped in had an eerie blue glow. Death reached towards a window and pulled the blinds covering it.

I gazed in awe and fear at the decomposing spirits that were floating in the void. Each one let out an ear-shattering cry as pain surged through its form. My eyes quivered with tears. My mouth was slightly gaping open. I pressed my palm against the window as I attempted to reach out to the poor creatures. They were once people, ones just like me, who must have committed terrible crimes in either one of the lives, maybe both. Only one thing can truly describe my feelings at that time: horror, pure, unadulterated, horror. A small chuckle rose from Death's throat.

"It seems like you'll begin to lose him earlier than we expected," he said lowly. I was about to bite back with a response, but something else caught my eye. It was a head of dark curly hair. When I squinted my eyes, I saw the ghostly decomposed form of a woman floating closer towards me. The woman's eyes were gone, her clothes were tattered and moldy, the bluish-green skin on her bones was falling apart. Her hair was the only thing that went untouched. Tears crawled out of my eyes.

"Barbara," I pushed out in a whisper. I watched as her eyes materialized in her eye sockets once more, only to be slowly eaten away. Barbara let out a painful shriek, so bad that Death had to reach over and pull the shade down. I pressed my back to the wall and let my body slide to the floor. My eyes were shot open, my limbs were stiff. I let my head flop into my waiting hands.

"Hmmm, it seems that every time you say her name, you just cause her more torturous pain," Death wryly observed with his sick twisted smile. He was enjoying my pain, probably wallowing in it. I heaved out a sigh, followed by a rush of tears. It was my fault. It was all my fault. Barbara and Adam were suffering because of me. Soon enough, Beetlejuice would suffer for eternity because of me. Guilt piled on my shoulders and weighed me down, guilt so strong that it could pull me down through the center of the Earth and out the other end.

"What have I done?" I wailed into my hands. The image of Beetlejuice floating in that hell haunted my thoughts. I _couldn't _make him go through this! I needed to be brave. I took in a deep breath. After wiping away my tears, I stood, squaring Death face to face, hoping to at least fake courage. In reality, I felt nothing but pure fear. "What can I do?"

"Excuse me?" Death asked as he looked up from his cigarette.

"What can I do to free Beetlejuice from his punishment?" Death chuckled again.

"I was sort of expecting this, you know. After all, Miss Deetz, you seem to be the one who always saves Beetlejuice's ass when he's in these situations."

"Please," I begged, my voice shaking, "please, I'll do anything!"

"Anything?" he inquired. "Well, actually, there is one thing you could do for me." Taking my arms, he pulled me closer to him. He kept a grip on one of my arms while with his other hand he tenderly wiped away some stray hairs from my face. I stared up at him, eyes still wide with fear. "I am in need of a freshly squeezed soul, one that will work for me for eternity." My next breath was short.

Death was asking me to kill myself.

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I frantically searched every drawer in my room. It _had_ to be in there somewhere! Clothes, papers, and books were tossed every which-way, creating a flood in my room. I finally found it at the bottom of my summer clothes drawer. It was a crumpled ball of yellow lined paper. I gingerly unrolled the ball and carefully flattened it with my hands. The ink I wrote in was slightly faded, but the note was readable.

_I am utterly alone. By the time you read this, I will be gone, having (something crossed out) plummeted off the Winter River Bridge._

That was my suicide note. It was a cheesy little thing I wrote after Adam and Barbara disappeared. Beetlejuice actually saved my life, because I was planning on committing suicide the day after I ran into him, but of course the miracle of a new friend changed my thinking. I couldn't help but laugh at the pathetic letter. I ripped the thing into shreds and tossed it in the air like confetti. If I was going to commit suicide, I was going to do it the proper way. Jumping off a bridge is a way of challenging the elements, which isn't true suicide. Hanging yourself is simply putting yourself in the hands of gravity.

On my nightstand one of Mother's kitchen knives sat. The sharp, brilliant blade reflected the little rays of sunlight that creeped through my black drapes. Stabbing yourself is the best form of suicide because you are subjecting yourself to your own hand. You have the power to stop it, but you also have the power to go through with it. It is the most honest form of suicide.

After cleaning up my discarded clothing and papers, I took the knife in my hands. I made sure that all of the windows and doors were closed and locked and that all of the drapes were drawn. I turned my back against the mirror. On my body I wore my Neitherworld costume, knowing that this was the outfit I was going to wear for the rest of eternity. I made sure my make-up was flawless. I even painted my nails black for the occasion. I cut my hair to shoulder length, leaving the long pieces of hair on the floor in a ring around my scissors. I tied my hair into the style I always wore it in while I was in the Neitherworld.

I let out a shuddering sigh as I took my position on the black throw rug. I didn't bother to leave a note. My parents would never understand why I did this, no matter how many words I used. I even feared that Beetlejuice wouldn't understand, but I trusted him. Death told me that the minute my heart stopped, Beetlejuice would be released from prison. I decided to perform his chant as my last words so he would appear once I killed myself. If things went the way they were supposed to, he would bury my body in the graveyard next to him and I would enter the Neitherworld. I didn't leave a note for him with instructions; I trusted him.

"_Though I know I should be wary, still I venture someplace scary. Ghostly haunting I turn loose, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice…_" I lifted my arms up with the knife's point aiming at me. My entire form was trembling, causing the knife to shake in my hands. I only had one chance to do this. If I didn't get enough force, the knife might not pierce the ribcage, which was my biggest fear for this operation. I made sure to get the angle right before saying the final word. I squeezed my eyes shut. Goodbye world, I'll miss you, I guess. Goodbye Mother and Father, I'll haunt you when I can. Goodbye Bertha and Prudence, you two were such good friends to me, even though I ditched you every time something came up with Beetlejuice. Goodbye Claire, even though you're a slut and I hate you. Goodbye California, I'm sure I would've liked college, but you know that fate works in strange ways. Goodbye…

"Beetlejuice!"

I plunged the knife towards my chest. First, a slicing thud. Next, nothing.

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Random Author's Note: If this were to become a Beetlejuice movie special, I'd want Mark Hamill to voice Death xDD


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: Newly Dead**

When I opened my eyes, light flooded my vision. I groaned and shut my eyes tightly, rolling over into my pillow like I did every morning. The pillow I had shoved my face into was white, not black. Gasping, I sat up. Everything was white.

This wasn't my room.

"Where am I?" I nervously asked, my entire body shaking. It was really cold in there. On cue, a nurse entered. Smiling, she approached the bed I was in.

"Look who's up!" she exclaimed happily. Her skin was pasty blue, similar to Gretchen's skin. Her black hair stuck out from under her nurse cap in strings. Pieces of her were sewn together or sewn back on, so she carried the appearance of a rag doll. "You must have so many questions right now," she added as she poured water into a glass and handed it to me. I accepted the water and took a few sips before putting it on the white nightstand. "Well, Miss Lydia, you're in the Eternity Ward," she said energetically. I tilted my head to the side, her words failing to make sense in my mind. The nurse giggled. "It's the place where the newly dead are…well…born! Isn't that _fascinating_?" I rolled my eyes. She was chippier than a squirrel drunk on caffeine. "Once you're ready, you need to go across the street to Death's building, where you'll meet with your Neitherworld case worker," she explained. I tried standing, finding it a lot easier than I thought it would be. I jumped up, expecting to float like Beetlejuice, but gravity pulled me back faster than I hoped. I looked down at myself. I was wearing my Neitherworld costume. A smile passed across my lips. The hole I expected to find in my corset was patched. When I looked at my chest, I found a scar. It was not in the spot I was hoping, the dead center, but it showed that I at least managed to stab my heart.

"I think I'm okay," I told the nurse, who responded by jumping up and down and clapping spastically.

"Yaaaay! You're such a trooper!" If she gave me a sticker, I would have choked her, but she didn't, so I wasn't given the honor. Instead she handed me a thick hard cover book. Despite its 500 pages plus thickness, the book didn't feel so heavy in my hands. The cover itself was an ugly brown that sort of reminded me of the brown beetles my friend enjoyed snacking on. "Handbook for the Recently Deceased" was spelled out in sky blue letters with white hi-lights across the top. Below the title was a picture of a man and a woman looking up at a clear blue sky.

I quickly stomped out of the hospital and into the building across the street with the book in hand. When I reached Death's office, the receptionist told me to go to "Death Counseling" on the forty-fifth floor. When I entered the office, I was in a full waiting room. Ghosts of all sorts sat in the chairs. One was a woman who sat in pieces (a murder victim, the poor girl). Another was a man missing an arm. One was a woman who was actually a transgendered man. Hesitantly I stepped towards the receptionist's window and took a number, finding that it was at least five feet long. Eyes wide, I sat down on the magazine table.

The receptionist opened her window, her eyes falling on me.

"Miss Deetz," she called, "your case worker is ready to see you now." I looked down at my number, then at the one on the wall. I think mine was Pi, and the one on the wall was 525,600. When I didn't stand, she did the 'Come here' thing with her finger and I had no choice but to obey.

"Are you sure?" I questioned. She let out an exasperated sigh.

"Don't keep her waiting. She's not the most patient person." She slammed the door shut and I followed the signs in the surreal hallways that led me to my case worker's office.

An old woman sat at her desk. She wasn't nearly as old as Death's receptionist, but this woman was getting sort of close. Her skin sagged ever so slightly off her face, her dyed-blonde hair was falling out, and her hands boasted thick purple veins. Smoke floated out of the gaping hole in her neck. She wore a red business suit with huge shoulder pads. She shuffled through a few folders until she found a vanilla one with my name on it. It was slightly thicker than the other ones I saw sprawled out on her desk, which made me even more nervous.

"Lydia Deetz," the woman said in a raspy voice. She gestured for me to sit. "I'm Juno, your case worker."

"What 'case'?" I asked as I opened and closed the front cover of the handbook. "I thought the whole thing was a-okay." After taking another puff of her cigarette, she opened the folder and took out a couple of papers. The smoke she inhaled escaped through the hole in her neck and into my face, causing me to cough and wipe away the foul stuff.

"Just because you went through Death doesn't mean your case is cleared," she croaked back. "In fact, we have many things to discuss. The first is your job." I was about to ask, 'What job?' but I remembered that, because I took away my own life, I was going to have to spend eternity working. I look a long, hard look at Juno. Was this my fate? Would I have to sit there and look at papers and yell at people for living shit lives?

She took out a paper and read over it. I couldn't read through the other side when she held it up, but I got the eerie feeling that it was a message from Death.

"_At Death's request, Miss Lydia Deetz will be working for him as his new receptionist until she meets the terms of the contract negotiated on the seventh of September, 1995_," Juno read, peering at me from behind her glasses for a moment before continuing. "_The terms of said contract are the soul of Miss Lydia Deetz in exchange for the dropping of the sentence of exorcism sentenced upon Beetlejuice on the sixth of September, 1995_." She let out an annoyed sigh and looked up at me. Unsure of what to do, I just smiled innocently. "Are you _sure_ you want to go through this?" she questioned. I simply nodded. "There's no turning back now," she mumbled as she leaned back in her chair and continued to read, holding the paper up. I squinted, trying to read the contract, but I just saw black blobs. I tapped my toes, which were quite comfortable in my boots, to pass the time away. After finishing the thing, Juno slammed the paper on her desk. "Let me see your hands," she demanded. I looked at my right hand for a moment. The ring was still there. I put them flat on the desk, palms down. She leaned forward to observe. First her eyes trailed to the left hand and then shot to the right. She let out a groan and sat back in her chair again. "You've _got _to be kidding me," she muttered as she rubbed her temples, "I'm getting _too old _for this shit!"

"What's wrong?" I had to ask. Again she sighed.

"You've come to believe that you and Beetlejuice were married on the day you met, correct?"

"Actually," I corrected her, "it was a commitment to friendship." I heard her mutter another swear under her breath.

"You see," she responded, "wearing the ring on the left hand means that you two are married, but as you can plainly see, the ring is on your right hand." Before I could ask what that meant, she just continued. "In the world of the living, this means engagement. But in the Neitherworld, the 'ring on the right hand' symbolizes a commitment deeper than marriage." I tilted my head to the side, pondering her last statement. A commitment deeper than marriage…was that even possible? My gaze turned to the ring. It just sat there, innocently hugging my finger. "Marriage can be broken through death, but this 'commitment' you got yourself into outlasts death, which means that you and Beetlejuice are stuck to each other for eternity." She sounded rather annoyed at this. Obviously this woman did not like Beetlejuice, but then again, who does?

Juno opened her mouth to say something else but she was interrupted by a ping on her computer. She turned to it and clicked a few things, then stared at the screen for a few moments.

"Death is requesting you in his office," she told me without turning to face me. Nodding, I stood.

"Thank you, Juno," I said politely.

"Good luck."

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I entered Death's waiting room and found that the receptionist was absent. When I entered the man's office, he was standing next to a wide window. The black blinds were pulled down, allowing minimal amounts of light into the red and black themed room. Upon my entrance, he turned to me.

"How do you like death so far?" he asked coolly. I shrugged.

"It could be worse," I responded. He let out a chuckle and had me sit down again. My poor butt had to suffer Juno's hard chairs, so it was quite thankful to sit in a comfortable padded seat. I spotted my fingernail markings in the leather. Had he noticed them too? I guess he didn't, or else they would be gone by now. He casually leaned against his desk.

"As you may have noticed, my secretary is gone," he said. "Because you committed suicide, you have to work, so you will be my new receptionist." He then proceeded to explain rules, regulations, and my work hours. Child labor laws were effective, even in the Neitherworld. Because I died when I was two months away from eighteen, Death couldn't push extra hours on me. I had to start the next day. "I kept my word," he added just as I was getting up to leave, "Beetlejuice is out of prison and is home safe and sound. Of course, Miss Deetz, you still have to uphold _your_ end of the bargain." He tapped his fingers against the wooden desk. On his fingers he wore different gems, expressing his vast collection of luxuries. I stared at him for a moment before answering. The wheels in my head were turning confusedly. Hadn't I given him my soul already?

"I don't understand," I replied nervously, "after I stabbed myself, didn't my soul go straight to you?" A chuckle rose from the man's throat.

"Dearest Lydia, I guess you misunderstood the words in the contract. When I said your soul, I meant both parts." My expression was blank. What did "both parts" mean? Reading my puzzled expression, Death continued speaking. "A soul is divided into two parts, one mortal and the other immortal. When you died, you gave me control over your immortal soul, but the mortal part is missing…" His razor white teeth shimmered as he smiled. "If you don't give me that lost piece of your soul by the end of the week, your friend Beetlejuice will be exorcised." My hands tightly gripped the seat. My eyes widened with fear and confusion. My voice had stopped cooperating and let out little croaking noises.

"Where am I supposed to find it?" I managed to thrust out. Death escorted me to the door, his arm around my shoulders. As he pushed me out, he said one thing:

"Ask your friend."

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I helplessly wandered about the city for most of the remainder of the day. Without Beetlejuice to guide me, I was as lost as a tourist trapped in the middle of Beijing. Dead people surrounded me. Back when I was still alive, I would often receive curious glances from these people, but now I was just another face in the crowd. I attempted to seek help from the people that looked like they'd been in the Neitherworld for a while, but most of them just brushed past me.

I only had three days to retrieve the remainder of my soul.

After hours of seemingly endless wandering, I finally recognized a road that seemed familiar. I knew that Beetlejuice lived in a house off of a winding street with no name, and when I saw a street slithering towards the horizon, I had a feeling that I would be able to find Beetlejuice's house. I looked around for a possible ride. Doomie wasn't around. I didn't have my bike. I didn't have enough money to rent a car. Sighing, I figured that walking would be the best thing to do.

By the time I reached Beetlejuice's road house, my feet were killing me. Again, I found myself wishing I wore flats, maybe even no shoes. It was quite dark by the time I rang the doorbell. A miniature hammer hit a stone skull, creating a loud clanking sound. I stood there for a few moments, tapping my foot against the ground and crossing my arms across my chest. Just as I was about to open the door myself, I heard footsteps approaching me from behind. When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw Jacques walking towards me.

"Ah! Mademoiselle Leedeeya!" the French skeleton exclaimed. Before I could even put my hand on the doorknob, I felt Jacques's bony hand on my shoulder. "You should not go in zere," he whispered, "Beatlejuice haz not been heemzelf lately." I turned the doorknob, ignoring the skeleton, but I turned around when I heard eight feet tapping towards us at once. The discordant tapping made me cringe ever so slightly. Ginger was a terrible dancer and her voice was even more annoying, but I tried to be nice.

"Goodness, Lydia, you look payla than death!" Ginger cried.

"But Ginger, I always look pale," I replied. "It's my natural complexion."

"Yeah," the spider said, "but even payla than usual!" Did Ginger and Jacques know that I was dead? I looked at both of them, observing the frowns and worried eyes they wore. When I pressed my ear to the door, I heard low whimpering. They must've known that something was wrong with Beetlejuice.

"I'll see if I can help Beetlejuice," I said as I opened the door. I heard both of them step towards me and I assumed that they were going to pull me back, but I never felt a tugging force on my cloak.

When I stepped into the room, there was no light except for the pale light that was flooding in from the outside. For a few seconds I wondered if Beetlejuice wasn't home, but the whimpering I heard in the corner proved that theory wrong. I stood in the doorway like a statue for the longest time. He didn't look up. I didn't go to meet him. We both just stayed put.

What was going through Beetlejuice's mind right now? Was he replaying the moment he found my bloody corpse on the ground? It must have been the most horrifying experience in his afterlife, worse than encountering an entire pod of sandworms. How did he feel when he saw the knife lodged in my chest? My cold and still heart ached. I felt more guilt rushing over me and perching on my shoulders. I wanted to cry, but I had to be strong for the both of us. Though it caused him great emotional pain, I knew that he would thank me for this act soon enough.

"Beetlejuice?" My voice seemed to echo throughout the room. It sounded timid and nervous. My feet fearfully tapped against the floor. Would he scream at me? Would he cry even more? Or would he just sit there? I took a line of uneasy steps towards him and slowly reached out my shaking hand. I knelt beside him and rested my pasty white hand on his shoulder.

"Why'd ya do it, Lyds?" he whimpered, his face still buried in his arms. I bit my lip to hold back tears. I couldn't stand to see my friend cry and it took a lot of will power to keep my tears from escaping. I took in a deep breath. Usually I had the right words to say, but at this moment I could not muster any words of support. "Oh God, Lyds, why'd ya do it?" he asked lowly. Pressure built up behind my eyes. Why did I have to cause him such pain? "You had your _whole life_ ahead of ya and ya just blew it all away!" he continued on, his voice getting louder.

"I…Beetlejuice…I did it for you," I finally replied, my voice weak and trembling. He whipped his entire body around. Our faces were close to touching.

"Haven't you realized that I'm not worth it?" he shouted in my face. I watched as tears rolled out of his eyes and down his cheeks all the way to the floor. I had seen Beetlejuice cry many times before, but this time he actually meant it. I felt an overbearing weight sink into my chest, pulling me out of my straight posture and into a slump on the floor. I brought my right hand to my eyes, resting it gently on my face as I tried to expel any tears that wanted to bulge out. I sniffed. He snorted back a huge wad of mucus. The slurping sound made my stomach churn ever so slightly. I tried to wrap my arms around him in an embrace but he pulled away, turning his back on me again. "I don't deserve your kindness," he mumbled. He clenched his fists, opening and closing them. I saw a loop of string poking out of his closed right hand. When he opened it again, my eyes widened. It was the ring. I looked down at its copy, the one that was closed around my finger. I let out a shuddering sigh.

"Beetlejuice…do you know where I can find the second part of my soul?" He ceased motion for a few moments. I waited patiently for him to respond. I didn't stir. I didn't even blink.

"Why…would ya wanna know?" he croaked as he looked over his shoulder, his yellow eyes peering at me.

"I need it," I replied quietly. "I need it so I can give it to Death in exchange for your freedom from exorcism." His teary eyes stared at me for the longest time. When he didn't say anything, I tried again. "Please Beetlejuice, if you know, I need you to tell me!"

"NO!" he screamed back as he turned to face me. Gasping I slid myself a little away from him, taken back by his reaction. I stared at him wide-eyed. "Lydia, listen to me," he pleaded. "You _can't _give Death your entire soul. Do you know what kind of creature you'll become?"

"I don't care!" I retorted. "If it means saving you from exorcism, I'm more than willing to give up my soul." I felt hot rivers flowing down my face and beginning to drip down my chin. "Please, just tell me where I can find it!" He shook his head back and forth like a bratty toddler. I wanted to scream in his face and reiterate the question until he caved in. He was _not _allowed to say 'No' to me. Didn't he realize how horrible exorcism was? Had he seen the cruel torture with his own eyes? I would never be able to forgive myself if I saw Beetlejuice's decaying soul floating in that awful room. He may have broken some rules, but I knew in my heart that he was a good person. I hesitantly began to crawl towards him, trying to look as benevolent as possible. I had to find a way to convince him to tell me. His body was closed tight, every muscle tense and protective. He must have known something.

"I can't, Lyds!" he cried. "I can't give it back to you!" He clutched the ring in his hand, squeezing it as he held his fist close to his heart. "Your mortal soul belongs to me now, and it always will!" More tears squeezed out of his tightly closed eyes. I sucked in another deep breath. Juno was right. Our commitment to each other was much, _much _stronger than marriage. It was an exchange of souls. From the moment he placed the ring on my finger, my soul belonged to him. We would be together for eternity. That was why he got jealous every time I spoke to a boy, living or dead. That was why he was so earnest in protecting me from Neitherworld's dangers, even if it meant standing up to sandworms or political leaders. I was the thing he had that was worth protecting, the thing he would always fight for. He would never let go. He would never let something come between us. He would protect me to the end.

I think I love him too.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight: Studying**

I was really craving some gum. I moved my tongue around in my mouth and opened my jaws so I could pop a piece of invisible gum. Though it was tasteless, it gave me something to do. For the past five hours I had been sitting at a computer with my eyes glued to the glowing screen. I looked things up on "Boogle", moved things up and down, played some Solitaire, the usual computer stuff. Random people came in and out. I had to greet them, ask for their name, and tell them when they could go in. Rather simple, quite boring.

People seemed to take notice to my fresh new face and often tried to talk to me. I simply answered in monosyllables and pretended that I was doing something important (while I was actually trying to beat the old secretary's high score in Solitaire). Card games weren't really my thing so I failed to even come close to the bat's top score. I swiped a couple of magazines from the rack and read about the afterlives of celebrities, once-famous people the Otherworld sort of forgot. I often shivered and trembled. To help myself get over the cold, I wrapped my new cloak around my shoulders and let it sit there. It only provided mediocre warmth.

I was finally allowed to take a lunch break. Death had a meeting with some of his stock holders and decided to close the office until three. This was the perfect opportunity to do some research on my condition. When I followed him out of the office, he did not mention the fact that I had two days to fork over my soul. He just smiled at me and asked if I liked working for him, and as every good employee would say, I replied with a cute, "Yes, sir." If I weren't already dead, I could have thrown myself off of a bridge.

Without bothering to get some lunch, I quickly rushed to the elevator and went down about twenty floors. When I stepped out, I found myself in Death's library (yes, he had a library). It was free for any of his hundreds of employees to use. Hopefully the library would hold at least one book that could help me.

I placed my Handbook on a desk (I learned to have the book with me at all times) and began my search through the bookshelves. To be honest, I hadn't the slightest clue where to begin. Where can one find a book on civil unions? I searched the entire non-fiction section and managed to find a few books that could help by the time my two hour lunch break was over. Figuring that I wouldn't have much to do, I took the books back to the office so I could read them.

The first one was about all the kinds of civil unions, including eloping and marriage. There was nothing on exchanging souls. The second one explained soul exchanging into further detail, mentioning that the act was illegal between and mortal and an immortal (oops), but there was no information that proved to be helpful. I let out a frustrated groan as I opened the third and final book. So far these damn things weren't getting me anywhere.

There was an entire section of the third book that was devoted to explaining, in complete detail, on how soul exchanges worked. Two identical objects had to be present and serve as physical representations of the exchange. Rings were said to be the most popular, but other things like thimbles, marbles, and doll heads had been used in some exchanges. I carefully perused each paragraph, each sentence, each word. Though the book provided an abundant amount of information, including the history of exchanges and how the ceremony typically went (I'll tell you that mine and Beetlejuice's "ceremony" was _far_ from the norm), there was still nothing that seemed to be helping me.

I began to wonder if I had been looking in the wrong places for information. Maybe books on exorcism would've been better? My eyes nervously darted towards the clock. Time was slowly ticking away from my grasp. It was past closing time, so I slid the useless musty books into the book slot and made a mental note to go back during tomorrow's lunch break. Though this was a dire situation, I had to put it on the back burner for a little while. My newest concern was finding a place to sleep. I spent my first night at The Monster Across the Street's house. I didn't want to be a burden on him again so I figured that I could possibly crash at Jacques's place (since Ginger's was too small). It turned out that Jacques's girlfriend was visiting and, since I didn't want to be the awkward third wheel, I said that I would find another place.

My eyes instantly trailed towards Beetlejuice's door. I swerved towards the closed door, staring at the skeleton he hung on it as a decoration. I raised my fist and reached forward to knock. Would he answer? Would he let me in? Was he mad at me? Swallowing my doubts, I hit my fist against the wooden door a few times. For a moment or so, there was no answer, but when I heard footsteps getting louder I knew that Beetlejuice was going to let me in. The doorknob turned and the door sank into the room. It wasn't as dark as it was when I last visited. From what I could see, a few lights were on, including the light leaking from the television.

Beetlejuice looked awful. And when I say awful, I mean that he looked even worse than he already did. His drooping eyes were bloodshot, most likely from a lack of sleep. Again I began to feel that guilt. He must've been up all night with nightmares that recalled bad memories. He was slightly hunched over and was sort of leaning against the wall tiredly. His normal striped suit was replaced with his mauve beetle pajamas and a pair of fuzzy slippers. His usual smile was usurped by a deep, forlorn frown.

"Uh…hi," I greeted him with a small wave.

"Hey, Lydia," he dully replied with a scratch of his nose. That stung me. Why wasn't he calling me "Lyds"? I clenched my fists, keeping them hidden behind my back. I lowered my head, allowing my eyes to close for a brief minute.

"Is it okay if I stay here tonight?" I asked, my voice quiet. He simply nodded, a low sound coming out of his throat as he stepped aside. I went in and removed my cloak, then placed it on the coat hanger. He dragged himself back to the couch and sat in front of the T.V., gluing his eyes to the screen. I stood by the door for a little while before slowly walking over to the couch and sitting down in the space that was left. I held the Handbook on my lap, tapping my finger pads against the hard, plain cover.

The tension between us was as obvious as a black wolf in a field of sheep. The conversations we had used to be endless, but now just saying two words felt forced. Now that I was dead, would Beetlejuice want to hang out with me anymore? Why was he not talking to me? My gaze was on him for a while but he didn't seem to notice. Instead he allowed himself to be engulfed by the television. Sighing I leaned against the arm on my side of the couch. Barry MeNot was hosting an episode of "Neitherworld's Most Wanted". He had the most obnoxious voice, but Beetlejuice loved the guy. My heavy eyes began to droop closed. I couldn't even remember the last time I slept. When I spent the night at The Monster's house, I was up all night thinking. During my final days as a living girl, I had gone in and out of dream-like phases, but I don't believe that I actually slept. I wondered how I looked when I met Death for the first time. Were there dark circles under my eyes? Was my make-up smeared and fading? Was my hair a rat's nest?

"Can I go sleep in your room?" I heard myself asking. I wanted to smack myself. When did I have to start asking permission to do stuff? After our first anniversary, I just did whatever in his house, figuring that the permission would be granted if I asked. Like if I had to get a drink of water, I would just get up and go. I knew where the glasses were and how to run the faucet. It wasn't like I was the Queen of Switzerland and all of my drinks had to be tea served in porcelain cups with a chocolate biscuit. I was his best friend. We could be casual and open and stupid and neither of us would care.

"Yeah, sure," Beetlejuice croaked back. I stood, feeling myself sway ever so slightly with fatigue as I clunked towards his bedroom. The hinges whined as I pushed the door in and closed it, leaving it open just a crack. I went to his nightstand and clicked on the beetle lamp while placing the Handbook next to it. He still slept in a propped-up crimson padded coffin. The coffin's body was made of smooth dark blue-stained wood that was masterly shaped together to create a Dracula-like coffin. It sort of reminded me of my old alarm clock. I gave the bed a quick inspection for bugs, finding an entire bag of beetles wedged between two blocks of padding. I held the bag in my pointer and middle fingers and tossed it to the side, hearing it land on the floor with a soft thump.

I sat on the bed and removed my shoes, revealing a pair of black stockings on my feet. Before taking off the stockings, I removed the ring from my finger, took off my gloves, and put them in my left shoe. After putting the ring back on, I slipped off my stockings and put the pair in my right shoe before lying on my side. While the Neitherworld was sort of yucky during the day, it was beautiful at night. Though there was no moon and an absence of stars, deep indigo clouds floating in the almost perfectly black sky made the Neitherworld night more stunning. There was no light except for the small bit that was creeping into the room from the living room. Barry MeNot's voice was muffled and quiet. It was accompanied by the static Beetlejuice's dreadful television antenna gave.

My head rested on the big squishy pillow. When I pressed my nose to the pillowcase, it smelled like dried sweat. I couldn't tell if there were any stains, but I told myself that I couldn't be picky. I was lucky that Beetlejuice even answered the door. Sighing, I rolled onto my back and just stared at the ceiling. I reached under my body and pulled out the blanket I was resting on. As I draped it over myself, I couldn't help but notice its distinct wooly texture. It was knitted together, each stitch snug and strong. Though I couldn't see the fabric clearly, I knew that embroidered spiders dotted the blanket. It was the gift I made him for our third anniversary.

I held it up to my nose and deeply breathed in its scent. Beetlejuice's usual stink bled into it, but I also picked up the subtle yet familiar scents of home. Mom's horrible cooking, the awful perfume I got for Christmas the previous year (titled "Gothic Rose"), the green tea I always drank during my high school days, the red nail polish I used to paint blood on the spiders' fangs, used textbook, soft lilac, foot, dusty closet. All of those and many more nostalgic aromas melted into the fibers. I wrapped myself in the crimson shroud and felt all the warmth sink into my body. I bent my knees and curled my legs up, hugging them close to my chest. My eyes drooped closed for the first time in a long while.

Just as I was about to drift off into sleep, I heard the hinges of the door creak and the shuffling of footsteps against the ground. I kept my eyes closed and remained in a still, unmoving position. The only parts of my body I allowed movement in were my fingers, which were opening and closing uneasily. I made my breaths long and spread apart so it gave off the illusion that I was sleeping. For a moment all was still. I was becoming more and more awake. I had to keep my breathing under control or else I could get caught. I couldn't shift as much as I wanted to. I tried closing my eyes again, but they continued to shoot open.

The footsteps started travelling towards me again. They were heavy and sullen. Just hearing those footsteps, I could imagine what Beetlejuice's face looked like. His eyes would be half closed with red veins continuing to reveal themselves. His lips would be straight, neither smiling nor frowning. His green teeth would be sticking out in the silly way they always did. He would be slightly hunched over as he dragged himself towards the coffin.

His breathing was as heavy as his steps. Each exhale, though putrid, brought back happy memories. It was a stink I never thought I would appreciate, but now I found myself savoring each and every moment I had left with my best friend. If I failed in my task, I had to make the final times we had together last. I wanted to turn around and say "Hi," but my voice and body failed to follow my desires. Reason told me that the silence would reveal more than words ever could. I waited. Nothing happened. I was about to turn, but I let my reason take over.

It seemed like hours had passed before something actually happened. He approached the coffin. My back was to him. Slowly and carefully he wrapped his arms around my shoulders in a snug embrace. I felt hot tears leak out of my eyes and down my cheeks. Just as he was about to draw back, I allowed my arms to move and take hold of his, keeping them tight around my shoulders. We remained like that for another period of time. I'm not sure if I fell asleep or something, but when I looked out the window I saw the sky already beginning to light up with a mix of oranges and purples. Beetlejuice hugged me a little tighter.

"You can't have your soul back," he said in a low, hoarse voice. "I'm…s…s-sorr…" For the first time in a while, I found that my lips were curling into a small smile. Even in this depressing time, he was still his old self.

"It's okay," I told him reassuringly, "I know what you mean."

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When I awoke, the Neitherworld sky was a mix of browns, blacks, reds, and oranges. The clouds were the kind of brown you get when you mix every color of paint together. Even before stretching and picking out the eye crusts, I glanced over my shoulder to see if Beetlejuice was still there. He wasn't. When I checked the ground, I found that he wasn't there either. As I swiped away the eye crusts, I pulled the blanket off of myself and swooped my legs over the side of the coffin. I reached into my right boot and pulled out the stockings. Once the stockings and the boots were back on my legs and my gloves were on my hands, I went into the living room. The T.V. had been turned off. Two lights were turned on. I poked my head into the kitchen, finding it empty.

"Where the hell is he?" I hissed under my breath as I returned to the living room. My eyes trailed to the cuckoo clock on the wall. It was about six thirty in the morning. I had to be at work in thirty minutes. I went back into the kitchen and searched the fridge for something edible. I hadn't eaten in days, and now I seriously needed some sort of food. To my dismay, I could only find insects, worms, spiders, and other types of buggy foods along with some sour milk and an assortment of bug juices. My stomach turned just at the thought of consuming all of that nasty food. I shut the fridge and went back into Beetlejuice's bedroom to retrieve the Handbook. After grabbing that, I returned to the living room and placed my cloak on my shoulders. If Doomie was not in the garage, I would have to walk to work, which would take me quite a while.

To my luck, I found the keys to Doomie lying around in the kitchen and grabbed them. I went out into the garage and hopped into the sleeping green car.

"Good morning, Doomie," I greeted him cheerfully. Doomie awoke with a small honk and his metal bumpers curled into a smile. I pushed the key into the ignition and twisted it, making the engine hum to life. Slowly I guided Doomie out of the opening garage door and sped off once his end bumper had passed through the doorway. The city snaked closer to us with each passing second. The wind played with the hairs that pulled out of my hair tie, making them swivel and sway like tentacles. I took in a deep breath as I gently tapped the steering wheel. Every other time I had been in this car, there was some sort of sound that was distracting me from the scenery. This time, it was just me. I watched as houses I never noticed before passed us. People I never saw slowly left their homes. It was just another peaceful day in the Neitherworld. Most of those people seemed old and happy instead of young and miserable like me. For putting up with their lives, the old folks got to live work-free afterlives. Too bad they were old.

I pulled into the parking lot and entered the building, making sure that the Handbook was under my arm. Since I was five minutes early, I decided to sneak up to the library and see what I could find in there. To my luck, the library was closed and wouldn't open until nine. I let out a frustrated grunt through my teeth and stormed to the elevator. I wouldn't get a lunch break until about twelve thirty; that's _five and a half_ hours of research time down the drain!

When I reached the office, I was just barely on time. Since the office was unlocked, I knew that Death had already gotten there. By now he should have come out to at least say 'Hello,' but he failed to come out. In fact, I was in the waiting room alone for a while. There weren't even any customers. I passed this loneliness by flipping through the Handbook. It was a pretty weird thing, explaining all of the rules and regulations dead people had to follow, including never associating with the living. That rule was reiterated a number of times within the first few chapters. I knew that _someone_ didn't read the Handbook.

"This book reads like stereo instructions," I muttered once or twice.

At about eight, I heard shouting coming from Death's office. It definitely wasn't Death who was doing the shouting; the screaming person's voice was crass and loud. There was only one person in the Neitherworld with such a distinctive voice.

I ran towards the door and twisted the doorknob hurriedly, pushing the rather light door in with more force than it actually took. Because of this intense force, the door swung open and it dragged me into the wall. My body was jarred by the sudden impact, but I managed to recover mostly by leaning against the door to catch my breath. My breathing was a little heavy and labored. I lifted my lowered head, finding Death angrily leaning over his desk and grabbing a furious Beetlejuice. They seemed to be frozen in time. Perhaps my sudden entrance put them in a light state of shock.

"Beetlejuice…w-what are you doing here?" I asked between breaths. He stared back at me, his mouth opening and closing in different shapes. Sometimes he would utter an unfinished word. Usually, Beetlejuice was such a good liar. A smirk formed on Death's lips as he smoothly let go of Beetlejuice.

"What's the matter, Beetlejuice?" he taunted. "Sand worm got your tongue?" Beetlejuice growled something, most likely a dirty swear, and glared at my boss. I cautiously stepped towards them. Seeing that Beetlejuice was failing to come up with an answer and was simply standing there like a deer in the headlights, Death stood up straight and gave me the answer I wanted. "Your friend here was trying to negotiate a contract with me," he answered slyly, his eyes set on me. I leered back at Death, biting my bottom lip to hold back some nasty comments I had bubbling up in my throat. "He seems set on keeping your soul all to himself, that selfish demon." I seriously wanted to scratch that man's eyeballs out. Sure, Beetlejuice could be clingy and possessive at times, but he was far from selfish. He was being this way to protect me. He had protected me from all the dangers the Neitherworld had to offer, and now it was my turn to save his ass.

But Beetlejuice was also quite stubborn. He was set on keeping my mortal soul out of Death's hands and there was nothing I could do to convince him to return it to me.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Racing Against the Clock

Beetlejuice was kicked out of the building. He could have been arrested, but Death, out of the "kindness of his heart", pardoned my friend, saying that "The poor ghoul was just having a bad day." For the hours until my lunch break, I kept my nose in the Handbook. I read the chapter on the lives of ghosts. It said that for five earth years, an immortal had to remain in its own house before it could move to the Neitherworld permanently. Most dead people awoke near their houses and, once they entered the house, they were not allowed to leave. Immediately following that chapter was one on the "special cases", also known as the people who committed suicide. Unlike regular dead people, "suiciders" entered the Neitherworld through the Eternity Ward. From there we went to work. Most people went to work at fast food restaurants. The lucky ones got jobs as secretaries. Those who had professional training, like in nursing or accounting, just continued their jobs in the afterlife. Suiciders could work their ways up to highly esteemed positions, such as to the job of a social worker. Those people were Death's buddies, and it was good to be close to Death.

I was about to begin the next section of the chapter entitled, "The Law and You," when I was interrupted by Death's voice over the intercom. He told me that I was allowed to go on my lunch break. I hissed, "Yessssss," through my teeth and sprinted out the door, shuffling towards the elevator as quickly as I could. I managed to stop the elevator doors from closing by reaching out my arm and holding it in the closing space. The confused doors pulled away from each other and I snuck inside. I bumped into something cylindrical. When I looked down I saw that it was one of those rolling trashcans that janitors have. Clinging to the can were cleaning objects, such as two types of mops, a broom, cleaning spray, a sponge, and some old ragged cloths. I eyed the cleaning supplies for a moment, and then my eyes trailed up to the ghostly janitor.

The hunched man was colored a sickly green. From the way his eyes were squinted I could tell that he was Asian. The janitors at school tended to be Hispanic or Asian most of the time. My gaze was glued to the man. His uniform was a navy blue tee-shirt, tan cargo pants, and a navy and black baseball cap. He rested his chin on the end of the mop in his hands, staring quietly at the wall. When I looked at his neck, I saw rope burns that were similar to the ones around the old secretary's neck. People sure liked to hang themselves. I found my right hand resting over my stationary heart. I knew that below the leather corset was a line of stitched together skin. Why did this man kill himself? Was he unsatisfied with his life? Did he think that the afterlife would give him a better future?

I got off at my floor and watched the doors swallow up the man. The library was open, as it promised, and I stepped in. My Handbook was tucked safely under my left arm, swaying with the swinging movement my arms displayed when I walked. I went straight to the "Social Studies" section of the library to see what I could find. Under Psychology, I found a few books on the mental and bodily effects of exorcism. When I looked at the "History" section, I picked up three books on the history of the practice.

I sat at a desk located in a dark corner of the library and began my work. Time was running away from me. There was no way to take it back, so I had to work extra hard. The books explaining the effects of exorcism proved to be worthless to my cause and I tossed them aside. It was one o'clock, time to get back to work, when I finished looking through the first history book. I took the history texts back to the office and studied for most of the remaining work hours. Customers started rolling in again. I often had to put my books down to answer a phone call and schedule or cancel an appointment. Lots of people came up to me and I answered most of them in one-word responses without removing my eyes from the pages I was reading. At one point, Death asked if he could borrow my Handbook for a few moments. I couldn't refuse this request, so I handed it over. He came back a few minutes later and placed it on my desk without a word.

Exorcism, though horrifying, was quite an intriguing subject. Its original purpose was to drive evil spirits out of the mortal bodies they possessed. Though it was usual performed by living priests, anyone could execute the complicated rituals, including those who had died. Once a spirit was driven away, it would go to a place called "The Lost Souls Room" where it would be tortured for eternity. It was the death penalty of the Neitherworld. Over the past twenty years, exorcisms were being performed rapidly, making the room quite crowded. Spirits were being exorcised for breaking random rules. At one point a waiting line had to be established. Only the special cases, such as Adam and Barbara, went straight to the front. If I failed to find a way to steal my soul from Beetlejuice, he would be exorcised immediately.

Only one book mentioned a way of stopping an exorcism from occurring. The chapter on it was only two pages and explained that one had to make a deal with Death. _I _could have told you that!

I piled the three books on the right side of my desk and went back to scheduling appointments. My eyes constantly darted to the clock on the wall. Five hours left. Four hours left. Three and a half hours left. The sky outside gradually darkened, as did my hopes. All of my research was a waste of time. I wasn't going to be able to find a solution in time.

The day was winding down. During the last hour of the office's open period we only had one customer and a waiter from the third floor restaurant (who was bringing Death's dinner). The office always closed at five, though I had to stay until six to prepare for the next day. I curled up in my leather-padded wheeled office chair with my face in the Handbook. It never really occurred to me that the answer was in the thick text. It just so happened that there was a section about exorcism in "The Law and You". The first three paragraphs told me stuff I already knew: a brief history of the practice, why it was used, yada-yada-yada.

Finally, I came across something that could actually help me. Within that section, there was a list titled "The Criteria for Exorcism". A smile passed across my lips. The first item on the list was located towards the bottom of the page.

"The individual must be dead," I read out loud in a low, quiet voice. I couldn't help but chuckle at this. There was a time when Beetlejuice tried to pull a "Bio-Exorcist" scam. He actually managed to fool quite a few people. My eyes drifted to the top of the next page. My eyes widened like tea cup saucers.

The next page was missing.

"NO!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. I was prepared to rip the damned book right in half. My fingernails dug into the pages and the hard cover. After a few seconds, my intense grip loosened and I let go of the book, letting it drop of the floor. There was a light clunk when the hard cover and the smooth tiled floor came in contact. Pages rustled. I stood there, my eyes on my trembling hands and my mouth open in an "O". The key to saving Beetlejuice could have been on that page! I was too scared to scream, too heart-broken to cry.

The door to Death's office opened and the man stepped out. His footsteps clicked against the floor in perfect step with the ticking clock. He smoothly walked to the desk and stood on the customer side, leaning over and resting his chin in his hands, using his elbows to prop his hands up.

"So," he said, disregarding my state of shock, "where's my payment?" I let my arms drop to my sides, my eyes glaring at him.

"Where is it?" I hissed. He stared back at me blankly.

"Where is what?" he questioned.

"The page!" I hollered in his face. He remained in his pose, completely unfazed. He was toying with me again. I bent over and grabbed the Handbook, holding it open where the missing page was. "Where is the page you took from me?" I screamed. The back of my neck sizzled. My cheeks felt red. My entire face was coated in sticky. I took in deep breaths. Death simply smirked at me.

"I really have no idea what you're talking about, Miss Deetz," he replied nonchalantly. I shut the book and stormed to the coat hanger, grabbing my cloak. After swooping it on, I opened the door.

"I still have time," I shot at him before shutting the door behind me.

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I drove straight to Beetlejuice's house, finding that he was home. I left the Handbook in the car, figuring that I was going to need it soon. After parking Doomie in the garage (next to Pinky, his girlfriend), I walked right into the house and found Beetlejuice nervously pacing the floor. When he heard me step in, he turned to me and jumped towards me, his arms spread out.

"Where _were_ you?" he cried as he hugged me protectively. "Do you know how _worried _I was?" I rolled my eyes, pulling myself out of the tight embrace.

"I was at work," I grumbled in response. He put his hands on my shoulders, looking down at me. Even though I grew and was wearing heels, he still managed to be taller than me.

"Like I said," he said, "you're growing up too fast!" I couldn't help but smile. He must've been worried that I'd grown too mature for his antics. But now we would be spending an eternity together. There was no limit to the fun we could have! At least, that's what I hoped. I let out a heavy sigh and pulled away, slowly walking towards the window holding my cheek in my right hand. My left hand supported my right elbow. A mix of deep purple and indigo began slowly swallowing the warm pallet sky.

"I'm stuck," I told him flatly without turning to face him.

"Whadaya mean?" he asked. I glanced over my shoulder. Was he aware of his deadline? He seemed quite relaxed for someone who was going to be exorcised within a few hours.

"I don't have much time left," I replied, my voice shaking. My vision began to look glossy. "I don't know what to do…"

"Did you read the Handbook?" he asked slowly. I nodded, turning back towards the window. My lower lip quivered. Tears escaped my eyes. I buried my face in my hands.

"I was _so close_!" I wailed, feeling my entire body shake. "I was so close and the fucking page was _missing_!" My knees slowly began to fail and I found myself sinking to the floor. I was still wearing my cloak, and when I dropped to the ground the cape wrapped its arms around my shoulders. I leaned my head against the wall. My thoughts were buzzing like a nest of angry wasps. Everything was a jumbled mess and there was no way I could possibly untangle myself from the clutter. How was I supposed to find a solution in time? "I will never forgive myself if you are exorcised," I moaned into my hands. I heard footsteps approaching me from behind. I then heard the crumpling…or maybe uncrumpling…of paper. I removed my hands from my eyes and helped myself up. When I turned to face Beetlejuice, I saw a piece of wrinkled paper in his hands. Silently he handed it to me. I took it and scanned it. My eyes bulged ever so slightly.

It was the missing page!

"Beetlejuice!" I cried happily. "W-where did you get this?" My body continued to tremble, this time with excitement.

"Uuuuh…" he croaked, "I…uh…I found it in Death's office." I turned away for a moment.

"Death, that asshole," I muttered under my breath before turning to face my friend again. "This page could _save _you, Beetlejuice!" I exclaimed excitedly. He simply nodded, a nervous smile on his lips. My cheerful gaze turned back to the paper. Jelly beans were bouncing around ecstatically in my stomach. My hands were trembling, making the page shake as well.

There was a list of five other requirements for the punishment. After my first read, one sentence stuck out the most. Those words were burned into my memory and they still remain there. I folded the paper and tucked it under the left strap attaching the choker around my neck to the rest of the dress.

I stepped towards the door and opened it. Just as I started Doomie, I heard Beetlejuice's voice calling out to me.

"Lyds!" he exclaimed as he ran to the car. "I'm coming with you!" I smiled and pushed the passenger door open. He climbed in and closed the door while I checked the mirrors.

"Put your seatbelt on," I lightly commanded as I guided Doomie out of the garage. Beetlejuice simply leaned back with his hands behind his head and his feet on the dashboard.

"Nah, I don't need a _seatbelt_," he croaked. Smiling wryly, I floored it once we hit the road. He let out a scream from the sudden speed, continuing the cry when I slammed the breaks. It sent him flying into the windshield and out of the car. He turned his ability to go through objects on when he smashed through Doomie but collided with Poopsie's dog house. The dog barked wildly as Beetlejuice removed his head from the tiny wooden home. Screaming, Beetlejuice ran to the car and dove in. "Floor it, Lyds!" he hollered. Laughing still, I sped up. Once Beetlejuice was sitting in an upright position, he begrudgingly fastened his seatbelt.

My eyes fell on the twinkling city ahead. Death's building, the tallest in the city, stuck out like a sore thumb. I knew that Death was waiting for me on the top floor. I gently touched the paper resting over my heart with my right hand. Under my skin I felt the dead muscle flutter excitedly. The oval-shaped garnet, though dull, seemed to sparkle.

I knew how to save Beetlejuice.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten: The Loophole**

Beetlejuice and I entered the building carrying ourselves with confidence. Even though I projected certainty, I couldn't help but feel anxious. What if Death countered my only argument with an obvious statement or rule that I had missed? I tapped my foot nervously in double time with the clock hanging in the elevator. Beetlejuice leaned against one of the side walls, completely loose and relaxed. Shivers snaked down my body. How could he be so _calm_? I nervously hugged the Handbook to my chest.

Just as we reached the sixtieth floor, something happened. The lights began to flicker in the box, flipping on and off faster and faster. The box shook and rumbled. Gasping I ran towards Beetlejuice, seeking him for protection from what was going on. I thought that the elevator was going to drop down the shaft. I shut my eyes tightly, clinging tightly to Beetlejuice. The lights in the elevator shut off. We stopped moving.

"What…what just happened?" I nervously asked as I pulled away from him. I walked over to the board with the floor buttons and tried pushing the emergency button, but nothing happened. I took in a couple of deep calming breaths. Mother always said that inhaling deeply calmed the body down. Even so, my body didn't stop trembling. Beetlejuice looked up and floated to the ceiling, his eyes glowing like flashlights. He removed a tile and climbed onto the roof of the box.

"Looks like we're stuck here, Babes!" he called into the elevator, his voice echoing throughout the tall shaft. I leaned against the wall, bringing my left hand over my eyes. I let out a frustrated groan.

"Death must know we're here," I thought out loud. "He's trying to stall us." I went over to the opening in the ceiling and looked up. "Beetlejuice!" I called. His glowing yellow eyes popped up in my line of vision. Dim yet working spot lights dotted the inner walls of the elevator shaft. "Do you think you can turn the power on?" He looked over his shoulder for a moment, and then turned to me again.

"Uuuuh…sorry Babes," he responded as his fingernails scraped against his lice-infested scalp, "that'll take too much energy." I tapped my lips with my pointer finger, the wheels in my mind turning and trying to come up with an idea. I let out a gasp of realization. "Can you turn into the elevator and lift us to the top floor?" I called up.

"Now _that_ is something I can do!" Before I could say anything else, the walls of the elevator became black and white striped, just like his suit. I looked out of the hole and watched as Beetlejuice's arms snaked up to the pulley system that controlled the elevator. The box lurched and buckled slightly before it began to smoothly run up the shaft once more.

The elevator doors parted to reveal the maroon themed hallway outside of Death's office. After I stepped out, Beetlejuice switched to his human form and followed me down the hallway. He pulled open one of the glass doors leading into Death's office and held it for me. Once we were both inside, I approached the main office and pushed the door in without announcing myself. Death stood by the window with a martini glass in his hand. The liquid inside was a watery red. An olive on a toothpick made out of bone sat in the glass.

"If it isn't Miss Deetz and Beetlejuice," the suave man greeted us as he gestured towards the chairs in front of his desk. "Please, take a seat."

"There's no need," I replied as I approached him. "This won't take long." I pulled the piece of paper out and began to carefully unwrap it. I saw some red ink on the flipside of the paper, but I ignored it for the moment. This was far more important than the little note in scarlet.

"I assume that you're here to give me the other piece of your soul," Death said when I stopped in front of him.

"Actually, buddy," Beetlejuice spat from his spot next to me, "she's here to tell you off!" He smiled smugly as he crossed his arms. Death simply rolled his eyes.

"Please refrain from speaking to me in such a _crude_ manner," Death responded icily. I took a step forward, ready to defend my friend. Even though I wanted to cuss this guy out, I knew that he was in charge of both mine and Beetlejuice's fates. We had to at least show him some respect. I held my arm out and lightly pushed Beetlejuice away, shooting him a look that said, "Let me do this." He didn't object and just stepped back.

I looked up at Death. His eyes peered down, locking with mine. I took a timid step back, keeping my eyes on him. I couldn't let this guy threaten me. My knees were wobbling, something they tended to do when I was nervous or scared. I bit my lower lip, rubbing the paper with my thumbs. His lips curled into a shimmering white smile.

"Trying to find a little loophole in our contract, eh?" he asked with a small chuckle. I gave him a confident smile, lifting my head.

"Actually," I replied, "I _have_ discovered a little error." I stretched out the word 'error' as I played with the paper, flipping it between my fingers. Death took a sip of his martini before placing it on a skull-shaped coaster that was sitting on his desk.

"Is that so?" he questioned, keeping his cool. "Why don't you tell me about it?" I imagined that he had read the contract at least twenty times. When writing it, he must have taken extreme caution with his choice of words to prevent loopholes. Nervously I let my eyes trail to Beetlejuice. He was standing just a few feet behind me, holding his thumbs up reassuringly. I smiled. With my best friend by my side, I felt as though I could do anything.

I placed the crinkled paper on the desk and smoothed it out with my palms. My eyes had learned the location of the sentence I was looking for. It didn't even matter; I had the statement memorized. I had the Handbook under my arm just in case I had to use it. I took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"I was not able to retrieve the second part of my soul," I began. Smiling evilly, Death moved his hand towards mine and grasped my wrist, pulling me closer. My lower body bumped against the desk but my upper body continued moving, floating above the top of the desk.

"Hey!" Beetlejuice hollered as he pushed Death away in my defense. "Get yer dirty hands off of her!"

"Don't you dare touch me like that!" Death shouted back heatedly. They glared at each other, boiling the air between them.

"I'm not finished!" I said hardly. My stern gaze went straight to Beetlejuice. He read my expression and stepped back, frowning furiously as he continued to glare at Death. I turned back to Death, who was straightening his posture and smoothing out his suit. He seemed ready to hear the rest of my response. I went back to the desk and took the paper in my hands. "The paper I'm holding is a page from the Handbook for the Recently Deceased." I paused for a few seconds before continuing. "It is an excerpt from a chapter entitled 'The Law and You' explaining the history, effects, and criteria of exorcism." Death seemed to tighten up a little. I smiled wryly and continued. "I'm specifically bringing your attention to the criteria of exorcism. As you can see," I smoothed the paper onto the table and pointed to the last number on the list, "the final statement clearly states that _both parts_ of a person's soul are needed in order for an exorcism to be performed." Death looked at the paper, nodding.

"Well, yes, it seems that's the case," he quietly agreed.

"You know," I said as I swiped the paper away and folded it up, "I was not able to get my soul back because Beetlejuice owns it and he refused to return it." When I looked over at him, I saw that he was holding a brass linked chain. Hanging from the chain was the twin of my ring. I held up my right hand, eyeing the ring hugging my finger. "And now, Death, I'm going to tell you that you can't exorcise Beetlejuice, because I have one half of his soul, and I'm going to keep it all to myself." It was Death's turn to clench his fists angrily. I could see in his shocked and puzzled expression that he was trying to come up with something suave to say to throw us off. Perhaps he was racking his brain for something to counter my finding. The man was turning red-faced with fury. In his rage, he lashed out and reached towards my right hand, grabbing it and pulling me so I landed face-first on the top of the desk. My arm was in the air. He was tugging intensely on my right ring-finger. The ring would not budge. His fingernails dug and scratched into my skin.

"Let go of me!" I gritted as I pulled back. Beetlejuice instantly rushed to my aid and attempted to push Death's hand off of mine while I continued to pull myself away. Death's blue eyes widened and flared and low growling sounds came out of his mouth, almost like he was being possessed by an evil spirit, but no transformation of the sort occurred. After his many failed attempts to pull Death away from me, Beetlejuice transformed himself into a raging pull and decided that maybe a little push would force the businessman away from me. In his black and white bull form, Beetlejuice charged towards Death and pushed him away with a blunt, strong force that sent the man flying into the wall. Because Death was pulling on me, I was thrust back when he let go. I had fallen into one of his chairs but I also managed to tip it over.

I dizzily sat up and checked my red hand. Despite the force inflicted on it, the ring remained on my finger like it had never been touched. Beetlejuice floated over to me in his regular form. When I looked towards the back wall, I saw Death lodged in the hole his body created. My gaze then returned to Beetlejuice, who was holding out his hands. I took them and he pulled me up.

"You okay, Babes?" he asked. I smiled.

"As fine as ever!" I replied cheerfully. He let out a relieved sigh and smiled as well.

"Good," he replied, "'cause I don't think I could forgive myself if something happened to you." Smiling even more, I wrapped my arms around him in a quick embrace. When I looked at the wall from over his shoulder, I saw that the space was empty. I looked at the floor, finding Death crawling towards Beetlejuice's back pocket, where the chain with the ring was stored. I gasped, but it was too late to warn my friend. Just as Death was about to swipe the ring, a shock of electricity zapped him. "Oh yeah," Beetlejuice added when he looked down at the floor, "I forgot to tell him that the necklace is protected." He winked his left eye. Giggling, I looked back down at my boss and proceeded to help him stand. He refused my help and stood on his own, wiping off his sleeves quickly as he regained his cool composure. From behind his desk he sent us both a glare.

"I never want to see you again in this office, Beetlejuice," Death told him coldly. Beetlejuice winced, displaying a metaphorical arrow shooting right through his heart.

"Ouch! Hit me right square in the heart, buddy!" he croaked before pretending to die. I wanted to burst into laughter, but I held my hands over my lips and simply giggled a little. Death's serious gaze turned to me and I put my hands behind my back innocently.

"You are dismissed now, Miss Deetz," he said. "Take your things and leave." I was beaming. Jovially, I trotted up to his desk and took my Handbook. He crumpled the page into a ball again and pushed it towards me, obviously disgusted by the rules printed on the paper. Arm-in-arm, Beetlejuice and I left the top-floor office for good.

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Doomie drove home that evening, giving Beetlejuice and I time to talk. For the first couple of minutes we were as loud as two teenage girls discussing cute boys. We were reenacting epic scenes from our little tiff with Death, reciting our favorite lines, and laughing over how Beetlejuice turned into a bull and bolted Death into the wall. We complimented each other on our bravery and loyalty, saying that we made such a great team and we always would. Then the conversation died down and we just sat there awkwardly. Now I could actually hear the radio station. I reached forward to turn it up but my hand paused at the dial. I looked at my other hand. I was still clutching the paper. A small flash of scarlet poked out from the tinted white paper.

I slowly unraveled the ball, taking extra care so I didn't rip it. I opened up to the exorcism page. I ignored the familiar words and turned the page over, finding more information on exorcism, including the whole "death row" thing. What popped out was a message scrawled out in red ink. The first word I saw was my full name. Following that was a simple three-word message:

I love you.

I studied the hand writing for a moment. There was no signature, not even initials, but I already knew whose handwriting it was. The way he wrote "love" was rather odd. All four letters were sloppier than the letters in the other words. The strokes were shaky and the letters were malformed. I knew he had a hard time using words like "love" and "sorry" and "nice", since he hated all things of that sort.

I looked up at him. His gaze was shyly down at his hands. Beetlejuice must've had the page the entire time. Perhaps he wrote the note the night I stayed at his house and ripped it out when he lost his nerve. That dirty _liar_.I neatly folded the note and placed it on the dashboard, never taking my eyes off of him. Though I tried to look nonchalant, my body was shaking with excitement and nervousness. When did these feelings develop? How long had we been friends when he came to terms with his emotions? Had he loved me from the start? When I thought about it, the signs were quite clear. All this time he was in _love_ with me.

I tried to say the word. Love. My lips would not form to make the right vowel. My voice would not produce a sound. My body could not comprehend. It could not bring my returning feelings out into the open.

When did Ifigure this out for myself? Perhaps I had always known that I loved him, but I never believed that he would love me back. And on that night, the night I went to take my soul from him, we both knew officially that we were in love with each other, but neither of us had the courage to speak of it. I could feel it again, the clicking sensation I experienced when he placed the ring on my finger that fateful day. An instant, wordless connection was made, a mutual understanding. We were kindred spirits fated to be together. When we first met, we made a promise to never keep secrets from each other. We did not fulfill that promise. We both kept a heavy secret from each other. Those secrets were what slowly pushed us away from each other. Now that we had come to terms and shared those secrets, a connection was established again, one that was even stronger and more meaningful than the first one. My body filled to the brim with a comforting warmth.

I slid a little closer to him and rested my head on his shoulder. As I closed my eyes lightly, I felt his arm hesitantly wrapping around my shoulders. I knew that he was wondering if this was okay. My head was floating on light air. My heart was fluttering. I opened my eyes for a moment and looked up at him. He was looking down at me. I smiled. He smiled. There I was, a dead seventeen year old girl sitting in a magic car with a guy who she met purely by chance in a graveyard when she was eleven. On that momentous day, she traded souls with him, giving him possession of half of her soul while she in turn received half of his. They went on many adventures together, each one strengthening their friendship, respect for each other, and devotion. He was her best friend, her confidant, her love interest, her soul mate.

It was perfectly okay.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven: Making Things Right**

I returned to Death's building the next day, not to go to work but to see Juno. Beetlejuice tagged along with me, saying that he wanted to have a chat with one of his favorite people in the Neitherworld. We made sure to take a different elevator this time. While hearing the numbers ping up to forty-five, I began asking myself what Juno was going to say. Would she punish me? Would she punish Beetlejuice? But every time I looked at my ring, it was a comforting reassurance that nothing bad was going to happen to us. We had each other. We were invincible.

The elevator stopped and let on a passenger: a green-skinned woman wearing a nurse's outfit. The poor girl was trembling as she stood in the corner of the elevator. The initial thing about her I noticed was the slit in her neck. She must've been a new girl. Beetlejuice and I inched over to the corner opposite of hers, figuring that she needed some space. We stood close to each other in that corner. We didn't hold hands. We barely looked at each other. We only touched shoulder to shoulder. Despite the lack of contact, there was nothing cold between us. Sometimes my eyes would trail up. Beetlejuice would be looking at the ceiling and tapping his foot. When I rested my head against the wall and closed my eyes in a bored manner, I felt his gaze on me. When I opened my eyes and peered at him for a moment, he would stare at the floor innocently.

This little game of coy optical tag went along for a while until we reached the forty-fifth floor. We left the new nurse by herself and entered the hallway. The third door on the right was Juno's office. For the first time I noticed the short cactus sitting on the left side of her door. As I expected, the waiting room was full, and the sight made me let out an annoyed groan.

"It'll take us forever to get out of here," I complained as I pulled a number out of the red number wheel. Our number was somewhere in the fifty thousands. The number on the wall just switched to thirty-seven. Upon hearing the ping, a charred man stood and limped towards the entrance to the second hallway. A normal-looking elderly man, who was sitting on the magazine desk, slowly got up and began wobbling towards the empty chair. There was an empty space next to me. When I glanced towards the chair, I saw Beetlejuice sitting in it.

"Beat it, oldster," he told the man before motioning me over. Even though he was being rude, I couldn't help but laugh. Once I was a few inches away from the chair, Beetlejuice stood up and motioned for me to sit in the chair. Heat seeped onto my cheeks. I felt sorry for the old man, but the burning pressure in my feet said that he could deal with it. After all, he never knew the pain of walking around in heels. While I sat, Beetlejuice stood next to the chair. I glanced around. Everyone was reading his or her Handbook, which made me realize that I forgot mine at home. I never mentioned it, though.

Within two hours, only five numbers had been called. Beetlejuice was now sitting on the floor, tired of standing. I had finished counting ceiling tiles and was preparing myself to count them again to check my first answer.

"Why are we here again?" I heard Beetlejuice ask. I winced.

"Damn, lost count," I mumbled. I looked down at him. "I have to talk to Juno, remember?"

"Why?" he questioned crankily.

"Because, that's why," I replied tartly. He grabbed our number out of my hands and read it a few times. After that, he stood and began peeking at other people's numbers. His eyes darted between the one on the wall and the one in a person's hand. Finally, he found lucky forty-three in the hands of an old woman who was snoozing. Her body was perfectly fine, but her nose hung awkwardly off of her face and her face was colored a deep purple. Something told me that this poor grandma had been suffocated. I was about to tell Beetlejuice to get his ass back over here, but when I saw him switch our number with the woman's, I said nothing. Finally, we were going to get out of this God-forsaken waiting room!

"Number forty-three," Miss Argentina called from her window right when Beetlejuice parked next to me.

"Looks like that's us," I said cheerfully as I stood, stretching my arms out. Arm-in-arm, Beetlejuice and I entered the second hallway and began walking down it. The receptionist told us to go to the fifth door on the right, Juno's office. When we entered, Juno was sitting at her desk with two chunky folders in front of her. She stared hardly at the both of us when we sat down.

"What do you want?" she asked as a cloud of smoke escaped from the hole in her throat.

"Why do ya look so angry, Juno?" Beetlejuice questioned back facetiously as he crossed his legs and put his arms behind his head. "We're just here to say, 'Hi'."

"Then you're wasting my time. Get out."

"_Actually_," I pushed in just as Beetlejuice was about to say something, "we came because I wanted to ask you about work, since I was sort of fired from my first job."

"I already told you what your new job is, Lyds," Beetlejuice said to me. "You're gonna be a con-man like me!" I rolled my eyes while Juno glared at him.

"You are _not_ going to push her into your dirty business, Beetlejuice," the social worker crossly commanded.

"C'mooooon, Juno, I was only _half_-joking!"

"Which means you were _half_-serious," Juno grumbled before turning back to me. "There are plenty of jobs available in this building alone," she told me. "I'm not sure how many employers will be willing to hire you considering your record," she added as she spread her hand over the skinnier folder.

"Is there anything I can do that doesn't involve sitting at a desk?" I asked. "Office work isn't really my thing." She handed me a few identical forms and a plastic pen.

"Here are some job applications. Fill them out and give them to the employers at local shops or something," she said hurriedly. I nodded and folded them, placing them in a pocket in my cloak. I was just starting to get up when Juno held up her right pointer finger. "There's one more thing I want to discuss _quickly_ with you," she added. I sat down again. "Even though you committed suicide, you still need to spend one Otherworld year living in your home before you can live permanently in the Neitherworld. After that time is up, you will not be permitted to go to the Otherworld." Nervously, I glanced towards Beetlejuice.

"Um…but Juno…I already made…"

"No 'buts'," she interrupted, "those are the rules. You work during the day and go home at night. Do I make myself clear?" I had no choice but to nod. She turned her stone gaze to Beetlejuice. "Now, Beetlejuice, there are a few things I need to discuss with you." He let out a nervous laugh and took me by the wrist, standing up and pulling me with him.

"Uuuuh, love to, Junes, but I kinda have plans already. We'll catch up some other time!"

"No, Beetlejuice, we'll catch up _now_," Juno replied sternly. Beetlejuice turned the doorknob and found that it was locked. He looked back at Juno, drops of sweat dripping down the side of his head. "Say it, Lyds!" he shouted.

"Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!" I exclaimed without hesitation.

And we were gone.

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Later that day I applied for a job at a local music store. As it turned out, there was a large population of angsty Neitherworld teens who loved the same type of rock music I did. After showing my expertise of music to the manager, he hired me. I was supposed to start the next day.

We returned to Beetlejuice's house that afternoon. I planned to move in with him, but it appeared that I had to go live with my parents until my year was up. I was not allowed to associate with them, but I was still allowed to watch over them. When night fell, Beetlejuice came with me to my room. We discovered that he could go with me wherever I went as long as we both had our rings. The door to the Neitherworld closed, leaving us in my dark bedroom.

I turned two lamps on. My room was exactly the way it was when I died. The bed was unmade. The curtains were closed. My blood was stained on the throw rug and the wooden floor. The only difference was my door, which was unlocked. My parents must have used the skeleton key to get in, only to find that I was gone.

My gaze switched to Beetlejuice. He had stopped floating and was on his knees, staring somberly at the blood-stained carpet. I knew by the pained look in his eyes that he was reliving finding my corpse. I felt a sting in my chest. How could I have been so cruel? How could I have made him go through the pain of seeing his best friend's bleeding dead body? I knelt beside him, hoping that my presence would make him feel better. He turned to me and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in a tight embrace. Was this how he held my body when he found me? On my cheek I felt a tear rolling down.

"I'm sorry, Beetlejuice," I said to him softly. He nodded wordlessly and slowly let go. He stood and bent down to help me up. Even though I was standing, I didn't let go of his hands, hoping that his touch might expel the immense grief and guilt I felt weighing down my heart. I stared up at him for a long time as I tried to think of the right words to say. There was still one very important piece of information I was missing. I opened my mouth to ask but I shut it quickly. It might be too early to ask where my body was. Did he bury me next to him? Did my parents gain custody of my body? I shuddered as I thought of my cold, stiff corpse resting six feet under the Earth. My eyes would be closed lightly, never to open again. There would be a hole in my corset, marking the hole in my heart. I imagined dried scarlet blood staining my pale white chest. Was my body lying in a coffin? Was it being embraced by the Earth?

I heard footsteps clunking up the stairs. Gasping I looked around for a place to hide. Beetlejuice melted into my nightstand lamp, giving it a black and white striped appearance. I panicked.

"Help me!" I shouted in a whisper.

"Just imagine yourself as something," Beetlejuice whispered back. I looked around my room in search of something to turn into. My eye caught my black iron bookcase. All of my favorites were there. Dracula. Frankenstein. A Collection of the Works of Edgar Allan Poe. I closed my eyes and willed myself into that bookcase. A forceful wind pulled me in a certain direction and when I opened my eyes I saw the room in a strange new perspective. Everything was sideways. My body didn't feel chilled and fleshy. It felt…papery.

I was about to ask Beetlejuice what I had turned into, but I couldn't. The door opened and closed. Two feet padded across the room and stood in the middle. There was a heavy sigh. I looked towards the center, finding Mother standing there. She sniffed and brought her hand to her eyes, wiping away a few tears. For the first time in years, I found Mother donned completely in black. It was a plain knee-length long-sleeved dress with a V-neck collar. She didn't appear to notice that two lights were on. Her bright blue windows had gone shady and dull. She looked over the room. I closed my eyes when her gaze turned towards me. Was she aware of my presence? I longed to draw myself out of my inanimate form and wrap my arms around her as a means of comfort, but I couldn't taint my Neitherworld record again.

I opened my eyes once more when I heard more footsteps echoing up the stairs and into the hallway. The door opened again but did not close. Even though I didn't look at the person who entered, I knew that it was Father. His steps were soft and slow. He didn't give off any emotion, even when he stood at Mother's side and wrapped his arms around her. The only feeling I ever saw him display was "stressed". This man standing with Mother was nothing like my mellow, though strained, father. Despite his hectic schedule and biting need to relax, he always had a small demure smile on his lips. Now he wore a frown and a pair of forlorn eyes.

Pangs of guilt pulsed through my body. Sure, I managed to save Beetlejuice, but what about my family? How much misery did I put them through? I was their only daughter. I was their pride and joy. And now I was gone. I knew nothing of the emptiness they felt inside. I wanted to reach into their hearts and fill the void with warm light, but that was impossible.

Father murmured something to Mother, and then the two left, closing the door behind them. They kept the lights on. Once I was sure they were gone, I pushed myself out of my new form and became human again. I gasped and turned to face the source of a clunking and shuffling sound. The open book on the ground told me that I had transformed into my copy of Jaws. Beetlejuice easily slipped out of his lamp form, showing off his years and years of expertise. For a brief second he wore his usual goofy smile, but it quickly melted into a frown when he looked at me. My face felt humid with guilt, my eyelids were drooping, and tears welled up in my eyes. I looked at my shadowed bed. The bed curtains were tied to the posts, the way I left them. Whenever I sat on my bed with the drapes drawn, I felt like I was in my own protective box. It was dark yet there was enough light for me to read, write, and draw in. It was tight and closed, yet there was enough room for me to move around comfortably. It was closed off and protected, yet I could get out and go back in whenever I wanted to. It was my special little room nestled in arms of the Earth where no one could find me.

Without thinking much, I dove for the bed and buried my face into one of the black pillows. Quickly I felt a lukewarm wet patch spreading below my eyes. Guilt and shame pressed against my body, pushing me into the mattress, through the floor, and into the deepest depths of the Earth. Something kept me from plummeting far into the abyss: a comforting touch on my upper back. This touch pulled me out of my dark anxiety and into reality once more. Next to me I felt a sinking in the mattress, marking that someone else was sitting on it. I wanted to scream a ghostly moan into the pillow and let it hauntingly ring throughout the whole house, but my voice failed me. My body, heavy with sighs and tears, was my only way of expressing my emotions at the moment.

I turned onto my side and glanced over my shoulder. Beetlejuice was sitting right next to me. His hand was still resting palm down on my upper back. I wiped tears away from the corners of my eyes. I switched my gaze from him to my nightstand. As I stared at the dim lamp, the same question rolled around in my mind over and over again. I let out a small sigh.

"Can we see my body?" I heard myself asking. It was dark. The only light was the pale faint light from the bat lamp on my nightstand. Beetlejuice let out a long exhale through his nose.

"Tomorrow," he croaked. His mouth opened into a wide yawn. I closed my eyes lightly. The word rang through my mind. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I would see the only proof of my existence.

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I wore my hood over my head. My night shroud protected me from the cold breeze. Even though I was technically a ghost, I still could not float. My feet ached. I often leered at Beetlejuice, jealous at his ability to float. The cemetery was far from flat. The elevation was constantly changing, even at subtle levels. For a small New England town, Winter River's cemetery was packed. Then again, it was quite old.

We passed Adam and Barbara's graves on the way there. Their names never passed through my lips. Barbara's gaunt appearance instantly popped up in my mind's eye the moment I saw her name on the tombstone. Adam was different. I did not see him when I went to the Lost Soul's Room, but I created his current appearance in my imagination. I was too scared to make a sketch of it, because then it would be real.

The next grave we visited was Beetlejuice's. When I stared at the tombstone, I was instantly transported back in time to the day I first met him. The stone was younger and less weather-beaten. The ruby letters his epitaph was written in were brighter. The grass above the coffin was sickly green, dead and dry like reeds.

Something caught the corner of my eye. It was a speck of bright red. I turned to the right and looked down. Sitting in the center of a low mound was a red chrysanthemum. Chrysanthemums happened to be my favorite flowers because they symbolized death. Smiling, I knelt beside the mound and gently placed my hand over the freshly turned dirt. The grass sprouting out of the dirt was much greener and brighter than the grass growing in the field. I closed my eyes, pressing my hand deeper into the ground. My vision dug even further into the Earth. A simple cherry-stained wooden coffin rested under six feet of dirt. Inside, I knew that my body was sleeping peacefully. My skin was paler than Death. My limbs were stiff. My face was soft and tranquil. I had only been dead for two days in Neitherworld time. How long was that in Otherworld time?

Just two feet away from my coffin, Beetlejuice's old and chaffing coffin lay. I had a hard time imagining what his corpse looked like. Was all of his skin missing? Were his bones the only remnants? I tried sliding my hand on the dirt over his coffin, but no clear visions came to mind.

I glanced over my shoulder, finding that Beetlejuice was still standing behind me. His eyes had glazed over as he pensively stared at the blood red flower. His hands were stuffed in his pants pockets. After taking a final look at the duo, I pushed myself to my feet and stood next to Beetlejuice. My smile remained pasted to my face. I inched a little closer to him and rested my head on his shoulder.

"The chrysanthemum was a nice touch," I complimented, trying to cheer him up. I poked his arm with my pointer finger. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders in a small hug. Despite my efforts, his lips did not budge. I gave up after a little while and shuffled about a foot away from him. My hands were tucked under my cloak again and I used them to keep the two large curtain-like folds closed. A cold chill passed over us. My gaze turned to the gray sky. Winter River tended to look quite bleak in the winter time. I always associated this frozen weather with my impending birthday.

If I stayed alive for two more months, I would have turned eighteen. Snow would have begun to fall over Winter River. Our small town boutiques would have already started selling Christmas things, even though there would still be a week until Thanksgiving. Schools would be closing down in preparation for the holiday. Family members would be arriving. Everything would be bliss.

But I would be sitting in my room moping. My poetry journal would be stuffed cover-to-cover with pathetic poems. My head would have been bowed at all times. I would not speak in school. I would not associate with my family. I would rarely come to meals. I would be lonely and miserable.

I looked back at Beetlejuice once more. I stood next to him again, a small smile on my lips. I reached into his left-hand pocket and pulled his hand out, holding it with a soft yet firm grip. I felt one of his fingers delicately touching the ring. Together, we began our journey back to the entrance of the cemetery.

"Hurry up," I said with a small laugh, "I have to be at work in twenty minutes!"

The usual lightheartedness I expressed when I was near Beetlejuice returned, causing him to smile as well. I began picking up speed, dragging him along behind me, until I felt the ground begin to melt away from my feet. When that friction disappeared, it seemed like I had catapulted something out of my body. What weighed down my body was replaced with a warm, soothing glow. When I exhaled, my breath was fresh and exhilarating. My inhale was as light as a feather. All of my fear, doubts, and guilt had been released. My body was in the right resting place. It was hidden in a special corner of the cemetery. There was no headstone to give my corpse an identity. The chrysanthemum was our special secret. We had passed through the black iron gate. I looked down. My feet were no longer touching the ground. I was floating.


	13. Epilogue

**Epilogue: A Happy Ending**

It's been seven years since I've met Beetlejuice. Seven years to the day. Does time really pass so quickly?

Tomorrow will be the one year anniversary of my death. It will be my first day as a truly dead person. My spirit will no longer be allowed to roam in the Otherworld. But I'm okay with that. I am not leaving anyone or anything behind. I have no regrets.

Instead, I have a myriad of feelings and experiences to look forward to. I will continue to work at the music store. I will live with Beetlejuice. His voice will be the first thing I hear every morning and the last thing I hear before going to sleep. We will continue to go on adventures together. We will get mad at each other. We will argue. We will say we wish we never met. But those will be anger's words, not ours. Whenever I lose my patience, I will look at the ring on my finger, the reminder of the promise I made to him. And he will look at his copy and feel bad for making that stupid mistake. And then we will apologize to each other. Our love for each other will always conquer our negative emotions. Each passing day will add a new chapter to our story. Every moment will be a blessing.

By relinquishing the most precious gift a person could be given, I received something even more valuable. Beetlejuice continues to smile the same way he always has. We are a pair of free kindred spirits. The rings we carry seal the deal. We are not married; we are in a union stronger than that holy commitment. I hold a piece of him. He holds a piece of me. We made a promise to remain devoted to each other. We have all of eternity to roam free and forever. Together.

The End


End file.
